


i cannot heave / my heart into my mouth

by dearmaggiemay



Series: queen+cordelia [3]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018)
Genre: Cheating, Coming Out, Drug Abuse, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Tattoos, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-11-08 06:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmaggiemay/pseuds/dearmaggiemay
Summary: The same Shakespearian play that gave Delia her name also made her meet who would become the most important man of her life, and for that, she would forever be grateful.Or, in 1970 one future Freddie Mercury met aspiring actress Cordelia Hughes. Chaos ensued.





	1. 1990

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: this will be based on the movie's characters and not the real people per se, although I’ll add some random bits of trivia about the band and Freddie’s life to make it a bit more accurate. Please, please keep in mind that I’m writing about the characters in the film and not the real people.

“The Academy made it public a couple of hours ago, people are going crazy,” Gabriela said, looking out the hotel's window. They were on the sixth floor, but could easily hear a group of people screaming  _'Cordelia we love you!'_. Delia absently hummed, looking at herself in the mirror as she finished her eyeliner.

“I don’t mind them,” she said. “But we better start leaving for the airport. If they make me lose the flight...”

“Then we will just get you a private flight.” Gabriela sighed. “Hell, Freddie himself would get you on a plane as soon as you called. Don’t worry, you won’t be late to the Brit Awards.”

Delia wanted to say something along the lines of _He wouldn’t get me on a plane because I would be in jail for killing whoever made me be late_  but her daughter appearing out of nowhere and launching herself at her arms left her breathless.

“Ricky, darling, don’t do that,” she mumbled, kneeling on the floor to properly face Ricky.

“Are we going home now?” her daughter asked. Delia smiled at the sight of those big brown eyes and kissed her forehead before making sure that her daughter's sweater was keeping her warm. That February was so cold that even inside the hotel they could feel it sometimes. Delia thought of her fans suffering the wold wind outside the building and winced.

“We are. Listen, people outside the hotel are going a bit crazy right now. I want you to stay with Gabriela, alright? Is it okay with you?” she asked, looking up to her manager. With Ricky's coat in her hands, Gabriela smiled and nodded.

“Of course it is. Everything is ready. Let’s go.”

 

-x-

 

‘Going a bit crazy’ barely covered how actually crazy the whole situation was. Delia was used to it after more of ten years of fame, but it still made her a bit anxious. The only thing that kept her walking to the car and smiling were her bodyguards… And Gabriela walking ahead of them with Ricky in her arms, both safely ignored by the press and the fans that went straight for Delia. She made sure to walk slower and sign several photographs of herself so it would give her family time to get inside the car.

“Cordelia! Cordelia! Did you expect to be an Oscars nominee?”

“Well, after nearly passed out in _that_ scene, I certainly hoped that somebody would appreciate my effort,” she joked.

“Cordelia, will you be attending the Brit Awards?”

“Is your daughter flying home with you?”

“Cordelia! Do you think Queen will get their award?”

“Yes, yes, and _yes of course_. What kind of question is that?” she actually snorted at the last question.

“Cordelia, what do you have to say about the rumours?”

“There are always rumours, darling.”

“I’m talking about the rumours linking you to Harrison Ford!”

“Cordelia, what does your friend Carrie say about your relationship with Harrison?”

“Come on, guys, you know who actually owns my heart.”

"Is it...?"

“Are you talking about Queen’s drummer Roger Taylor?”

Delia just winked. A flash blinded her for a second and she hoped that the last question would make it into the headlines. Laughing at the poor guy’s face, she finally got inside the car and closed the door. She smiled when her daughter immediately cuddled up to her.

“Roger and you really need to stop messing with the press,” Gabriela said, frowning. “It’s been almost twenty years!”

“It’s their own fault for starting all that nonsense back in the 70s. Can’t a guy and a girl fucking cuddle together in the XXth century?”

“Mama, Jim said that’s a bad word,” Ricky interrupted. Delia petted her hair, red, just like hers.

“And that’s why you mustn’t repeat it. Come on.” she absently kissed her little nose. “Let’s go home.”


	2. 1970

To honour the traditions and the spirit of college theatre, Delia needed something extravagant and impressive for the play, was also quite desperate and almost running out of time. This meant she had the feeling that the little shop in Kensington Market would be the answer to her problems as soon as she laid eyes on the little stall. So she just stormed inside and started going through what seemed hundreds of pieces of clothing, humming to the distant piano vinyl being played, until a voice behind her made her look over her shoulder.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

The young blond man that spoke looked a bit out of place in the thrift shop, if Delia was honest, but she vaguely remembered him from around the market.

“Actually, yes. I need the most ostentatious, exuberant-looking dress you have around here. It's pretty urgent.”

He sighed. “I might not be the best person for… Oi, Fred! We need you here, mate!”

The blond winked at Delia before walking away, and she only realized that the piano hadn’t been a vinyl when the music stopped at the same time she started hearing somebody else's steps.

“Hello, darling. What are you looking for?”

Delia was, in all honesty, shocked. The blond guy was hot, sure, but this other man in front of her was just the prettiest person she had ever seen. From his dark, messy curls, to his dark eyes and baggy clothes. Period. And… _Oh God_ , his eyes were surrounded by kohl, Lord help her. “... Hi,” she managed to blurt out after a few seconds. “Yeah, I told your friend… I need a dress. The most ostentatious, exuberant, flamboyant thing you guys have around here. I'm really running out of time.”

“How much time are we actually talking about?”

“Huh…. Tonight, actually, so like two hours?”

“Oh, dear.”

Freddie, as he introduced himself, helped her go through what seemed their entire place looking for the perfect dress. In the end they found it behind the piano that Freddie had been playing when Delia went into the shop, and it turned out to be the most extravagant piece of clothing she had ever seen. Wine coloured (thankfully it didn’t quite clash with her red hair), bolder and shinier than it even had the right to, as it was probably older than her. It looked straight out from the 20s.

“Thank you so much, seriously. You just saved my life,” Delia told Freddie after paying for the dress. He gave her a small smile, making her wonder if he was self-conscious about it for any reason.

“Can I ask why do you need such a dress?”

“Sure. I do theatre, we have a play tonight and the dude that was in charge of clothing walked out on us this morning. I’m pretty sure that half of the cast will go up the stage in their grandma’s clothing.”

Freddie grinned at the mental image. “ Well, thankfully you walked into my stall.”

“Our stall!” yelled the blond guy from somewhere in the shop. Freddie frowned and rolled his eyes, as if the whole thing was a common occurrence.

“Stop eavesdropping, you noisy bitch!” he yelled back to Delia’s amusement. “Anyway, dear, I’m afraid I have become too invested in this, you know? Now I have to watch you do your theatre thing in my dress.”

“Our dress!”

“Roger!” Freddie warned him. Roger’s only answer was a giggle, but Delia barely noticed it because _prettiest guy ever_ apparently wanted to see her on the stage. Well.

“I’m warning you, this is a drunken college students’ interpretation of King Lear,” she stated. Freddie’s eyes gave her a defiant look.

“Well, try me.”

His body looked kinda small, insufficient to hold back the wild amount of defiance and stubbornness Delia could feel in him, for the burning of his eyes. She would swear she was a little bit in love already. 

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine. Cordelia Hughes, call me Delia,” she introduced herself, holding out her hand. She expected Freddie to shake it but instead he took it carefully and kissed her knuckles like a gentleman, making her blush and grin in the process.

“Farro- Freddie Bulsara, darling... I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

He wasn't quite smiling, but he was looking at her like... Like an artist would look at a particularly confusing piece of art. Thinking that she didn't make sense, not yet, maybe not ever, but he wouldn't care and would look at her like something precious anyway. Looking back, Delia should have known she was a goner in the second she decided she _had_ to see Freddie's smile.

 

-x-

 

Many hours later, cheap wine and the rush of their messy interpretation had managed to keep Freddie out of Delia's slightly inebriated mind. The hundred or so of students in front of them seemed to have enjoyed their mayhem or representation, however, because they were cheering and clapping, and Delia was trying to stop her huge smile from splitting her face in two and about to ask Katy if she was up for a few more drinks when suddenly the bouquet of flowers hit her on the chest.

“What the fuck…?”

“Delia, darling!”

“Oh God. You guys actually came?”

Delia was so surprised and so touched that she didn't even mind that the blond, Roger, had tagged along, and she quickly sat down on the edge of the stage to hug Freddie to thank him for the flowers. However, the wine made her lean too forward and the boys hurried to catch her before she hit the floor. She was pretty sure that she elbowed poor Roger before Freddie safely got her on the floor.

“You are drunk, Anna!” one of her cast mates exclaimed. Delia flipped him off.

“Fuck off, Johnny, I told you it’s Delia now!”

“Delia?” Roger asked. Still half-wrapped around Freddie, Delia just shrugged.

“I will be an actress,” she confidently said. No ‘I want to’, no ‘I hope to’... She _would_ be an actress. “Like, a real one, not this shitty thing we do here. Anna is boring and common, Cordelia stands out.”

“Didn’t you just play that character? King Lear’s daughter?” Freddie arched an eyebrow. Delia nodded and winked, smiling when he returned the wink.

Katy was long gone, so when both boys told Delia if she would go with them to see Roger's band performing in some pub she was happy to take her coat (that June was oddly cold) and the flowers and go.

“Thank you for the flowers,” she said an hour later, watching Smile’s performance and Roger’s impressive drum skills. The guitarist was awesome as well. “That was really nice.”

Freddie playfully pushed her with his shoulder. “Don't thank me so much, dear, I... May not have acquired them, in the proper sense of the word.”

Meaning that he had probably stolen them from somewhere while Roger kept watch. Delia had only known them for a couple of hours but she was already unravelling their dynamics -which promised to be deliciously funny to be around. Smiling to herself, she took a sip from her drink carefully trying not to stain the dress. She had gotten a few odd looks as she walked into the pub, which, fair enough. She looked straight out of a 20s movie, it wasn't something people expected to see when they went for a beer.

“Maybe we should have accompanied you somewhere to get changed,” Freddie commented when he saw her rearranging the straps so they laid flat on her shoulders, before he frowned. “No, you know what? Forget that. You look stunning, Delly.”

Delia wasn't sure if it was because of the compliment, or the Delia turned into Delly in his mouth or how he looked unbearably pretty under the cheap lights of the pub, but she had to confess. “You can't just... Alright, I literally can't keep quiet anymore. You are telling me I look stunning but _you_ are literally the prettiest person I’ve ever met, and I don't know how often you are told that but surely it isn't enough. There, I said it.”

Sober Delia didn’t quite have a filter and drunk Delia had no filter or chill. Freddie blushed a bit and smiled, that time without trying to hide the teeth that had apparently made him self-conscious earlier, back at the shop. That, Delia thought after a second, she couldn’t understand. He was gorgeous, period. He had big teeth, sure. He also had a big mouth. Big eyes, lovely cheekbones, cute hair. She barely knew him, but she was quite sure that one could put a paper bag on his head and it wouldn't change a thing. It was the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he moved. Something impossible to look away from.

Delia giggled at his blush and kissed his cheek.

 

-x-

 

“I can’t believe he just… Left.”

“I’m going to find him and I'm going to fight him,” Roger emphatically (and loudly) announced for the whole pub to hear. Cleaning a glass, Delia sighed.

“I told you weeks ago that Tim was becoming tired. Even I could see that.”

Brian straight up pouted and silently asked for a refill.

Delia wasn’t really sure how she had found herself pulled into the hectic world of Freddie’s friends. One night she became Freddie’s friend somewhere in the middle of a quite passive-aggressive exchange of compliments about each other, the next one she started pouring shots for the whole of Smile in the pub she worked at as a waitress. She hadn’t quite warmed up to Tim though, not in the way she had hit it off with Roger and Brian since the beginning, so she wasn’t truly sad to see him leaving. She was sad, though, because Tim leaving meant the end of her friends’ band.

“The last one,” she warned Brian as she gave him another drink. “I won’t be dragging your ass back to the flat.”

“Neither will I.”

“Shut up Rog, you are drunker than he is.”

“Fuck. Where is Freddie when you need him?”

At some point a few months ago, Freddie, Roger and Brian had all started to share a flat hoping that it would make living cheaper. Personally, Delia was quite sure that Freddie was equally drunk at that moment but in another pub, one that would better fit his… Preferences. It wasn't that difficult to see. She kept on cleaning the glasses for some seconds before both her friends suddenly looked at each other, so quickly that she heard something crack.

“Freddie…!

“... He sings!”

 

-x-

 

Indeed, Freddie sang. Delia had no doubt about it after one hungovered morning in which she had felt so miserable that she had dragged herself through half of London just to sneak into her friends’ flat and invade Freddie’s bed. Discovering that her new friend was just as handsy and physical as she was had been a godsent and Freddie, always up for some unplanned cuddling and also quite hungovered himself, had hugged her and started singing some lyrics Delia hadn’t recognized. It had been so beautiful that she straight up started crying.

“Oh, darling, what’s wrong?” Freddie had asked, wiping away her tears.

“You sound like a fucking angel!”

And, okay, maybe she had just been emotional due to the hungover, but the truth remained. Freddie sang like the fucking angels.

He easily became ~~Smile~~ Queen’s brand new singer in July, which meant that when Delia visited them in the flat she was now faced with arguments about songs and lyrics and chords. She didn’t understand a thing about the latter, though, and Brian absently told her that he would teach her to play the guitar before turning around to scream at Freddie that  _but if I rode a million rivers…_

“... are the wrong lyrics, you fucker!”

They still didn’t have a bassist. so Delia wrote a small advertisement for them and put it on a college board on her way to rehearsals. Four aspirants later, one John Deacon joined the band. And he…

“... is perfect, darling, it’s just like he was born for this band,” Freddie insisted one night. They were both discarding second-hand clothing at the shop, drinking Delia’s cheap wine while talking about the band. Taking an old hat that she would keep for herself, Delia smiled.

“Well, you guys will have to introduce him to me at some point.”

 

-x-

 

“Freddie, what are you wearing?”

“It’s my mother’s. Delia, Veronica, she’s Deaky’s girlfriend. Veronica, Delia. See you later, darlings!”

Delia looked at her friend running back to the stage in disbelief before turning to the brunette girl Freddie had just dropped next to her. The poor thing just smiled.

“Hi, I’m Veronica. Friends call me Ronnie, though.”

Delia just stared at the insanely cute girl in front of her for the few seconds that took her to answer. “... Can I call you Ronnie?” she blurted out. Wow, really smooth. Thankfully, Veronica’s smile just got wider as Brian started to introduce the band.

“Hello, everybody…” There were some scattered cheering and applauding, to which Delia and Veronica contributed. “We’ve got a few fresh faces. This is John Deacon, our bass player…”

He was cute, Delia decided, although she still had to hear him playing. She knew Freddie and the boys had been quite demanding in their search for a bassist. Veronica wolf-whistled and the bassist winked at her from the stage.

“And our new lead singer, Freddie Bulsara.”

Delia cheered enough that the people around her were shamed into cheering as well. On the stage, Freddie blew her a kiss.

“And Roger, of course. The biggest member of them all.” Brian sounded a bit tired when he said that, probably because half of the girls there started to cheer for the drummer.

“Hey, Roger!” one of them shouted. Roger smiled and gave her a nod.

There was some nasty muttering, about Tim’s absence, about the ‘Pakkie’, and Delia wasn’t afraid at all of starting a bar fight. What the fuck was wrong with them?

“He’s Parsi, you fuckers,” Veronica mumbled at one point. John must have hung around them enough for him and his girlfriend to know that. Delia decided right then and there that she liked Veronica.

They started to play and Delia felt a wave of second-hand panic when she saw Freddie’s struggle with the microphone. He grabbed it with such force that it suddenly dislodged from its base and nearly hit poor John’s head, but Freddie seemed pleased with the results because he proudly held up both the microphone and its stand before starting to sing.

They absolutely  _rocked it_. Yeah, Freddie wasn’t giving too many fucks about the original lyrics and Delia could see Brian losing his shit about it on the stage, but people around them were dancing and cheering. They really liked it, and no one seemed to be able to look away from Freddie. How could they, with such a singing angel parading up and down the stage with such grace, shamelessly twirling in front of them with his microphone stand and his tambourine?

Delia and Veronica proudly welcomed them back with drinks once the gig was over.

“We didn’t have to pay for them,” Delia announced while Veronica kissed her boyfriend. “The owner of the pub is quite pleased with you guys, although he isn’t that happy about the microphone,” she teased Freddie, who loudly pecked her cheek before grabbing his drink. Roger was talking to the girl that had shouted before and Brian looked one second away from reprimacing Freddie about the lyrics -but he seemed to see somebody in the crowd, and he left for a minute.

He came back with a cute, blonde girl he introduced as Mary. She talked a bit with Freddie (apparently they had seen each other before, at a shop called Biba that Freddie liked) before the singer got dragged back into band discussion. Delia and Veronica rapidly warmed up to Mary and the three of them made their own little group, talking about the gig while the boys did the same, although louder -and drunker after they went for drinks for a second round. They looked excited about the upcoming gigs and their future as a band, and the girls shared the feeling.

Delia was hit by the feeling, at three in the morning in a shitty pub in London, that Queen would change the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty people: H  
> Delia: *becomes a stuttering mess*
> 
> Okay, changes from real life/the film  
> -It's a crime that they didn't include the shop or the flat in the film, period.  
> -Deaky joined Queen one year and four bassists later than the rest, this wasn't acknowledged in the film and here he joins since the beginning like in the film, so he could be in that pub scene, but he is actually the fourth bassist to audition.  
> -Apparently, Deaky and Veronica began dating in 1971, but I kinda wanted to introduce the three main girls at the same time and Veronica will become more important later, so here you have her at the pub scene being proud gf#1. Also I've read about her being blonde but at least on the pics I've seen from the young Veronica she looked brunette to me and -look, I'm a simple person. This way we collect the whole set, Delia (ginger), Veronica (brunette) and Mary (blonde). Ta-daa.  
> -Turns out that Brian and Mary messed around for a bit before she met Freddie, and Brian was actually the one that introduced them to each other, so I wrote that in while still referencing the Biba shop scene because I loved that scene (Rami looked gorgeous in it, fight me)


	3. 1971 (I)

As much as Roger would defend the van, the truth was that it wasn’t that fine. Even less when it got the band and Delia stuck in the middle of nowhere during a quite hot August afternoon.

“This is bollocks!” Rogers exclaimed, barely avoiding a passing-by tractor that nearly ran over him. Delia snorted, turning back to watch Deaky’s struggles with the wheel. He actually was an electrical engineer, although she guessed that there wasn’t that much electricity in an old van’s wheel.

“It's counterclockwise, I think you'll find, John, ” Brian said after a few minutes.

“Oh, is it?” Deaky’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Thank you, Brian. Would you like to do it? Please, feel free.”

“No, no, no. Doing a good job.”

“Why am I even here?” Delia sighed, leaning against Brian’s side. He snorted.

“For moral support.”

“Because you love us, darling,” Freddie added. His smile didn’t falter, not even when Delia stole his sandwich. Meanwhile, Roger had kept ranting.

“... sold out every pub and uni south of Glasgow… And I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere, eating a ham sandwich!”

“Trouble is, we're just not thinking big enough.”

Delia arched an eyebrow. “And what have you got in mind, Freddie?”

“An album.”

Oh, of course.

“We can't afford an album.” Deaky voiced Delia’s concern. However, Freddie didn’t look worried at all.

“Oh, we'll find a way… How much do you think we can get for this van?”

 Roger dropped his sandwich. “I hope you're joking,” he said, although it sounded rather like a plea. 

Turns out, Freddie hadn’t been joking.

 “That's three months' wages.”

“And a perfectly good van,” Roger said, watching Freddie give all their money to the studio owner. Delia smiled at his pout.

“Don't be so dramatic, darling, you're recording an album tonight. Let's go!”

 

-x-

 

Delia quietly watched them work and record their album. “Queen?” she had asked before. “Isn’t that a bit…?” she had been going to say ‘simple’, but Freddie’s glare silenced her. Cuddled against her, Mary giggled. She had started dating Freddie at some point and so there she was with them in the studio.

It was really late and the whole thing sounded almost ready, in Delia’s humble and inexperienced opinion, but Freddie didn't think the same.

“Don't you think I sound like shit?”

“No, it's good.”

“... Can we try it again?”

Freddie was nothing but a perfectionist. Against Delia’s other side Veronica groaned, making Delia smile as she pet her back. Somehow she had managed to get snuggled in between two cute girls, and although she wasn’t about to steal her best friends’ girlfriends… Come on, she was cuddling with two cute girls, she was allowed to at least enjoy herself, sue her. 

The studio owner shrugged. “Sure, yeah. Sure, it's your money.”

“Literally,” Deaky pouted. 

Even to Delia’s untrained ears, it was true that Seven Seas of Rhye did sound a bit better after that second try.

“Sounds a lot better,” Deaky was forced to agree.

“We need to get experimental.”

“Try bouncing us left and right for the ah-ah-ahs,” Freddie told Brian. While Delia had no idea of what that meant, she was left in awe at what they did then to the sound.

“Now dead center for the last…”

“And then blast it!” Roger interrupted Brian, jumping on the couch and startling Mary.

“Yes!”

“So,” Delia yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Why don’t you guys ‘experiment’ further?”

Freddie sat next to her, engulfing both Delia and Mary in a rib-crushing hug. “What do you mean, darling?”

“... Do we have rope?”

They had. The studio owner apparently didn’t give a shit when they hung the speakers from the ceiling, or when the girls went to the cafeteria for pans and pots for the boys to put on the drums. Then came coins on the timbals (and Delia stared in awe at Brian, who started to use one instead of his usual guitar pick) and all kinds of stuff on the piano. Freddie’s tambourine, Roger’s maracas, cans of beer, Veronica’s and Freddie’s bracelets. It was totally crazy and Delia loved every single moment of it.

Even when she had to go back home on the bus, squeezed between Deaky and Mary. Both girls giggled when they heard Roger still complaining about their former van.

 

-x-

 

There were quite a lot more people inside the Winter Garden Theatre that night than Delia had expected, at least for a simple college interpretation of A Woman of No Importance. Some people liked to say that it was ‘the weakest of the plays Wilde wrote in the Nineties’, but Delia loved it. There was one particular line from a character called Mrs Allonby that she really liked.  _"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That is his."_  

Unfortunately, she wouldn't get to say the quote as she wasn’t Mrs Allonby but Lady Hunstanton, the air-headed Victorian aristocrat that hosted the party in the play. Delia could see Freddie having fun with her interpretation, sitting with their friends in the front rows. They threw her flowers when the play ended and Delia rushed to go down the stage and meet them.

“I’m not sure if it was supposed to be funny, but I was pissing myself at some points,” Roger admitted, kissing her cheek. Delia grinned.

“Well, it isn’t a comedy but it is supposed to be satire, so fair enough I guess…” Mary hugged her and tried to tell her something, but Delia suddenly saw something that made her zone out. That shade of red… It couldn’t be. Could it be? “Excuse me, I think…”

She moved away from her friends, trying to follow that red-haired updo she had seen for just a second. Delia knew that shade of red damn well, it was the same shade of red of her own hair and she had seen very few people with it... It couldn’t be. Her Victorian costume made it difficult for Delia to navigate in the sea of people that moved around her, either to the exit or to the stage to talk with some of the actors. Soon it became obvious that her efforts were useless. If she had ever been there, she had already left. Delia stared at the crowd for a few seconds, nervously biting her lip, and jumped when suddenly someone grabbed her arm.

“Delly?” She turned around and smiled at Freddie, who looked confused. “Darling, what are you looking for?” 

‘ _I thought I had seen my sister_ ’ it’s what she wanted to say.

“I thought I had seen somebody,” is what she said instead. “It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s grab a drink.”

 

-x-

 

She lost her friends at some point during the night and she found somebody else in return, because Delia woke up the next morning with an arm around her waist and the telephone ringing, too loud for her poor hungovered ears. It stopped after a few seconds, however, and Delia sighed and snuggled into the warmth of the body behind her. She intended to sleep for a bit more, but suddenly somebody knocked on her door.

“Delia? Your father is on the phone,” Katy said from the hallway. “Go get it, okay? I have to go now, I’ll be back for lunch!”

Delia groaned and dragged herself away from the warmth. She found her panties and put on the first thing she saw on the back of her chair, which turned out to be a huge t-shirt she had stolen from Brian’s wardrobe months ago. Then she turned around to see the person on her bed. It turned out to be some blonde girl. Delia frowned. She had the vague feeling the girl was called Nancy, although she wasn’t that sure. Ugh, whatever.

She left the room as quietly as she could and went to the living room, breathing in deeply before she took the phone. “Hi, dad,” she said, frowning when she heard her own voice. Fuck, she sounded horrible.

“ _Anna_ ,” her father still didn’t want to acknowledge that Delia had legally changed her name, it seemed. “ _Martha was in London, yesterday._ ”

So apparently Delia had been right. She had indeed seen Martha among the public... Fuck. 

“ _She tells me she saw you at the Winter Garden Theatre last night. On the stage._ ” 

Delia’s vision suddenly went dark and sparkly. No. No, Martha wouldn't... Her legs started to shake a bit and she had to sit down on the couch. Why?

“ _Can you please explain to me why are you still wasting your time with that theatre nonsense?_ ”

 

-x-

 

 It was Deaky the one who found her sitting on the stairs outside the boys’ flat.

“Delia?” he asked. “What happened? You look horrible.” Delia had managed to stop crying a while ago, but his words made her start again.  “Oh, no, don’t cry!” he panicked a bit and quickly took her hands in his. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Deaky, as young and soft as he seemed, was to be feared. He managed to locate Freddie and Roger and get them back to the flat after three single phone calls, which was impressive in itself. Delia had once gone three days without hearing about them after a night of partying. Brian, who had been at the flat, didn’t look quite as panicked as Deaky but he made her tea and hugged her on the couch until the two missing boys were back at the flat. 

“Delia, darling, what’s wrong?” Freddie asked as soon as he saw her. “We lost you last night, you had us a bit worried. What happened?” 

He kneeled on the floor next to the couch and grabbed her hands with one hand, using the other to wipe away her tears and the remainings of the makeup she had been wearing the night before. Delia managed to give him a small smile. “I… I just love you guys so much… I had to say goodbye.”

“What?” Roger asked. He looked impossibly heartbroken as she told them. About her sister, about her father.

“... he hates that I don’t live the way he wants me to live, he hates that I moved out, and he hates theatre and arts even more. He had forbidden me from doing theatre after the last time, but I didn’t listen and my sister saw me last night and…” she bit her lower lip to avoid a sob. “He won’t give me more money. Working at the pub doesn’t pay enough and you guys know damn well that theatre doesn’t either, so… I have to leave my flat and go back to Boston.”

“Bollocks!” Roger exclaimed, kicking a chair so hard that he sent it to the other side of the room. “You can’t let him ruin your life like that! Guys?” he looked at them for support. Freddie looked straight up murderous.

“Darling, you are not going back. Not like this. Period.”

“And what do you want me to do, Freddie? Move to the fucking pub?” Delia asked, her voice growing louder which each word. She could feel more tears running down her cheeks when Brian hugged her harder.

“Delia, we can’t just let you leave when you are so obviously upset about it…”

“Move in with us.” Deaky’s interruption fell over them like a bucket of cold water. Delia opened and closed her mouth several times before she was able to speak again.

“What?”

“Move in with us,” he repeated, looking around at their friends. “What? It’s perfect. You spend most of your time here anyway.”

“Guys…”

“Well...” Brian frowned. “We don’t actually use the room that faces the inner patio, it’s too dark for us to study or for Freddie to draw…”

“It’s full of shit, though, we’d had to clean it and throw out a lot of stuff,” Roger interrupted him.

“Well, that’s easy…”

“Guys, haven’t you heard anything I’ve said in the last ten minutes?” Delia asked. “I have no money.”

“Do you think we give a fuck about that, darling?” Freddie laughed. “Don’t be silly, you are family. Besides, I’ll take shorter showers, that should help to save money.”

“Yeah, you should fucking do that, maybe I could actually go to class without freezing my ass every morning!” 

Brian’s words made them laugh.

In the end, it took them two trips to take all of Delia’s stuff from her own flat and into the boys’ (Katy was mad at her for leaving, but what the fuck was Delia supposed to do?) and three hours to empty and clean what would become her room. Roger went to the shop and came back with some old Christmas lights that Deaky repaired and hung from the ceiling to make the place a bit lighter. Freddie suddenly appeared with a really soft comforter (“You can thank my mom next week, dear.”) and Brian stood on her bed and used Freddie’s paints to paint galaxies and constellations on the ceiling. 

Delia could have fought harder, tried to stop the boys from basically adopting her. But she hadn’t wanted to. She would rather take their pity and their love than to go back to Boston, to the house, darker than her new room, to her father’s prohibitions and not so lowkey expectations of marrying and settling down as soon as possible. Delia was twenty-one now, after all. She didn’t study and had a shitty job, so of course the next step was pretty clear in his opinion.

In Delia’s, she thought while eating cheap pizza and marvelling at Roger’s ability to fit three slices inside his mouth, she would rather die.

 

-x- 

 

They had lunch with the Bulsaras during Freddie's birthday in September. Bomi Bulsara was alright, maybe a bit stiff. Kashmira Bulsara was really nice and too cute for her own good and they all instantly loved her. Jer Bulsara was just _the sweetest_ and Delia would straight up die for her, no questions asked. 

“Thank you so much for the comforter, seriously, you really didn’t have to…”

“Enough with that nonsense, my dear, and eat a bit more. You too, Veronica. You girls are too thin, these men aren’t giving you a good life.”

Delia giggled when Jer eyed the whole band and they all blushed a bit and looked away. It seemed that Freddie had inherited his no-chill attitude from his mother.

“Mary,” Jer continued. “I can't tell you how long I have waited for Farrokh… To bring home a nice girl like you.”

“Farrokh?” Mary frowned. Apparently she didn’t know about it, although to be fair she and Freddie hadn’t been dating for that long.

“Did Farrokh not tell you he was born in Zanzibar?” Jer asked, looking a bit surprised.

“No, he did not…”

“I used to know a girl who was Zanzibari,” Roger added, making Delia snort.

“Come on, which girl don’t you ‘used to know’?”

“One minute. I thought Freddie was born in London.”

Kashmira openly laughed, earning herself a little smack from her older brother. “Oh, he was. At the age of 18…”

“Shut up!” Freddie hissed. Delia saw Jer taking what looked like a photograph album and patted Brian’s arm excitedly.

“Bri, Bri! Baby pics incoming!”

“What? God, I need to see that.” Veronica smiled.

“Our family is Indian Parsee. Mary, have a look at these,” Jer said, giving Mary the album to Freddie’s horror.

“Mum. Mum, Mum. Mum, please…”

“Yes, yeah!”

“We  _need_ to see those,” Brian emphasised. 

There was a bit of struggle, but in the end they got to pass around the album while Freddie’s dad told them how the Parsees had fled to India from Persia to escape Muslim persecution.

“Oh my God, he’s so cute!” Delia cooed at the picture, batting away one of Brian’s curls that got in the middle as they both leaned over Mary’s shoulder to see the album. “He was so tiny!”

“He is still tiny.”

“Guys, can you please stop ganging up on me, please?!”

“He was quite a good boxer, actually,” Kashmira showed them another photograph of a really young Freddie boxing. “He had to be. His opponents went for his teeth, always trying to punch them in.”

At some point, Freddie just ignored them all and went to the piano to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to himself. Delia frowned, something hadn’t sounded quite alright in the lyrics...

“So how old is he in this photo?” Brian asked Jer.

“I think three or four years old.”

“Really?”

“Mercury?” Kashmira asked when Freddie stopped playing. So that was what Delia had heard...

“No looking back. Only forward.”

“So now the family name's not good enough for you?”

Delia frowned. She had had her own difficult relationship with her father, and apparently Freddie had his own.

“It's just a stage name.” Jer tried to calm them down.

“No, it's not. I changed it legally. Got a new passport and everything.” 

Well, shit. Kashmira and Jer try to reconduct the situation with more baby pics, cake, innocent talking.

“Freddie tells me that you’re some sort of scientist,” Jer told Brian. He shrugged.

“Astrophysics, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Look at that, Mrs Bulsara. Astrophysics, and he has the nerve to shrug,” Delia playfully pushed her friend with her shoulder. Freddie’s father was still talking, but Freddie paid no attention to him as he went to answer the ringing phone.

“I’ve already told you to call me Jer, dear. And what do you do? Freddie told me you are an actress.”

“Well, that’s it, for now. I’ve been acting for some years, but I’d like to make it into cinema. I’m not that interesting yet. You should ask Deaky, or Roger. He’s a dentist.”

“I am _not_ a dentist…”

“I have an announcement.” Freddie suddenly interrupted their conversation, still holding the phone. He looked weirdly pale. “One of the A&R men… From Trident Studios saw us recording. Gave our demo to Norman Sheffield. Trident Studios works with Elton John,” he added after a few seconds as if his bandmates didn’t know that.

“Oh, my God,” Brian mumbled next to Delia.

“Mr Sheffield wants to meet us… And possibly, even manage us.”

“Shut up!”

“You're joking!”

“ _Oh, my God!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really love the Bulsara family. Also as you can see, Veronica will be there in place of many of Roger's random girls because fight me, and the band cooing over baby Freddie represents the whole fandom.
> 
> Edit: I've changed the plot regarding their management back to the historically accurate thing. Bear with me, I've always liked Queen but I have only recently become really invested in them. I learnt about Death on Two Legs' origin today and I just could not write about it. I'll try to connect it to the film's plot.


	4. 1971 (II)

The boys were a bit too excited about meeting Norman Sheffield, which meant that their disastrous convivence turned even harder for the two days between the phone call and the actual meeting. Delia understood their need to cause a good impression, she really did, but at the same time she was going to throw somebody from the balcony if they didn’t calm the fuck down. 

“Fuck’s sake, it will only go worse if you are nervous!” she tried to reason with them, in vain. 

It wasn’t just Freddie and his usual drama. All of them were pretty much a hysterical mess by the day they were going to meet Sheffield, and Delia couldn’t feel happier that it would all finally be over. She was so relieved that she even agreed to keep the shop open while they were in the meeting and to help them with their clothing.

Because they really needed help with their clothing. Left without supervision, the four of them had an uncanny ability to never dress like they were going to the same place and besides, neither Brian or Deaky owned the type of clothes that fit the image they were going after. Roger’s clothes were small on Deaky and comically short on Brian, so it was Freddie’s closet the one to suffer the robbery.

In the end, Freddie got in charge of keeping it fashionable, Delia got in charge of toning it down a little bit (they didn’t want poor Sheffield to run away at the sight of them, Freddie’s mere presence was enough and they definitely didn’t need three more people dressing just like him) while the others were in charge of ‘taking a shower’ and ‘shutting the fuck up about the clothing and getting dressed’, as Delia helpfully put it.

It was all going well. Too well. Freddie was doing his makeup (he had agreed to keep it simple and just use the eyeliner), Deaky was completely ready, Brian was still occupying the bathroom but almost ready nevertheless and Roger was already showered and getting dressed, because he actually took three damn showers a day.

“Now I know why we run out of hot water so often,” Delia mumbled before raising her voice. “Fasten those buttons, Rog, or Sheffield will think you want to hit on him.” 

Roger winked but ultimately did as told before Delia went to the bathroom’s door.

“Bri?” she asked, knocking. “Are you ready?”

“Huh…” came his answer, muffled by the door. “We might have a problem here.” 

Deep down, Delia knew it all had been going too well.

She opened the door and something inside her wasn’t that surprised when she saw the brush in Brian’s hand and his usually curly hair all puffed up. It looked like he had tried to straighten it, _tried_ being the keyword. “Brian, what the… What the fuck?” she stammered. There were few things she took for granted, but two of them were Brian’s curls and his damn common sense. And he seemed to have lost both.

“I…” he tried to say before Delia closed her eyes and interrupted him.

“You know what, I don’t even... Bend down over the bathtub. Freddie, I need you here right now!” she exclaimed as she opened the water tap and directed the shower head to Brian’s hair. “Bri’s messed up his hair!”

“Well, good for him, I’m trying to find my jacket here, darling!”

“Asshole,” Delia mumbled while trying to fix up the mess. She made sure to get Brian’s hair as wet as possible before closing the water tap and grabbing a towel. “Stand up… Okay, actually, _don’t_ stand up, sit on the edge of the bathtub. Jeez, how can you be so tall?” Delia used the towel to dry his hair only until it stopped dripping water everywhere and then took her own hair gel, hoping that it would work. “Why did you even try to straighten your hair?” she asked, putting a bit of gel on her hand and starting to fix the mess. “Besides, your hair is too curly to straighten it with a brush, Bri, you must know that.”

Brian shrugged. He looked quite defeated. “Of course I know, I didn’t spend all those years straightening it for nothing. But I had to try.”

“You used to straighten your hair?” Delia arched an eyebrow without looking away from the curls she was carefully sculping back to their original shape. “I can’t even imagine you with straight hair. Why did you do that? You look pretty with the curls.”

“Pretty,” he snorted. “You are almost as good as Freddie when it comes to cheering people.”

“I try my best. So?”

“I… It’s stupid, okay?” Brian said, more to himself than to Delia. “But I used to hate my hair, I was always upset about having curly hair. It isn’t even wavy, and I couldn’t keep it short and not look stupid with it. But with college, the doctorate and the band and everything… I don’t know, there were things more important than my damn hair. I basically forgot to cut it, and it turned out that it looks okay if I keep it long.”

“It doesn’t look okay, it looks very pretty,” Delia insisted, softly pulling on a curl and watching it bounce back. “I wish my hair was like this.”     

 Brian opened his mouth to answer but was abruptly interrupted by Freddie’s shriek.

“What do you mean you sold my jacket?!”

“I don’t know mate, I saw it at the shop, I didn’t realize it was yours, _I’m sorry!_ ” Roger’s panic showed in his voice, making Delia sigh.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

She managed to make them all leave on time for the meeting except for Freddie, who for once didn’t seem to need the boost because he left before the others. To go where or do what, Delia wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She just fastened Roger’s buttons, made sure that Brian’s hair was alright and kissed Deaky on the cheek before basically kicking them out, and then leaving herself after ten minutes to go to the shop.

It wasn’t a busy day (she only sold a couple of shirts, a pair of boots and an old box of records) and the only known face was Mary, who came over to ask about the boys before going back to Biba. Veronica phoned, but Delia couldn’t tell her anything since she wouldn’t know anything either until the end of the evening.

A couple of hours later, Delia was about to close the shop when she heard her name being called, and she barely had time to turn around before Roger run into her and hugged her so hard that her feet left the floor.

“We made it, Delly, we fucking made it!”

“Oh my God!" 

Delia was so happy for them that she could have cried right then and there, especially when Deaky and Brian joined the hug only a couple of seconds later. Delia laughed, struggling to get her head out the pile of limbs trapping her. That was when she saw Freddie, proudly making his way towards them and smiling like the cat that ate the canary…

And wearing a really hideous jacket that made him look like an angry lizard.

The previous days’ nervousness, she could deal with. But apparently the jacket was the last straw, and Delia hysterically bursted out laughing so hard that Roger had to pat her back to help her catch her breath again.

 

-x-

 

“I still can’t believe he went after that poor guy to get his jacket back. I mean, I kinda hoped I would never have to see it again… Oh my God, Brian, be careful!” Mary exclaimed after the guitarist almost fell on them.

“I’m sorry, dear, it’s your arsehole of a boyfriend, who doesn’t know how to accept he’s lost…”

“A deloo isn’t a real animal, Bri, what the fuck!” Freddie said at the same time, after having pushed poor Brian. Delia sighed and used her foot to push the guitarist away from the girl’s couch.

“Out!” 

Brian pouted. “You hurt me, Delly, you really do.”

“Bri, go back to your scrabble and leave us out of your shenanigans or so God help me…”

“They really are like kids,” Veronica mumbled once he went, watching Deaky rearrange his tiles with fondness in her eyes. Mary put her head on Delia’s shoulder.

“How do you even stand living in this mess? I wouldn’t be able to put up with this on a daily basis, and I do love Freddie.”

 The mess in the living room had dramatically escalated since the last time Delia had bothered to look away from the girls. She wrinkled her nose at the beer cans and wine bottles everywhere, half-eaten slices of pizza, ashtrays being knocked over every five minutes to Brian’s dismay. That was the very least that could be expected for a night in with the girls celebrating that they got their first manager.

 But there was also the boys’ laundry basket opened in the corner, with Roger’s socks falling from it. The radio Deaky had fixed to the best of his abilities rested next to Roger’s teeth jar on top of a bookshelf full of old records and Delia’s theatre classics. Freddie’s drawings and photographs covered the walls on the places where the old flowery paper had faded away. September and the new college term had just begun, but they already had an eclectic mix of Brian’s books about space and Roger’s anatomy notes (along with Freddie's makeup) on every horizontal space, and Deaky’s electric equipment and half-finished projects scattered all over the floor. It was almost impossible to find a place to sit, and that was why Delia was so protective over their couch. The boys were free to roll on the cold floor for all she cared, but she would rather not catch a cold.

Because yeah, the flat was cold, and sometimes the kitchen didn’t work and Delia had to hit it to make it work, or the hot water ran out too fast (and it wasn’t completely Roger’s or Freddie’s fault) and honestly nobody was really sure about what clothes belonged to whom anymore. Delia was quite lucky with a small room of her own but the boys shared rooms and had virtually no privacy, which meant waking up to surprised yelps when somebody found an unexpected, naked visitor -mainly Roger’s girlfriends, and poor Veronica one unforgettable time. 

So… Yeah. Small, messy, sometimes cold, almost no privacy and it made the concept of personal space a distant notion. But...Delia looked at her boys. Freddie had tackled Brian and was tickling him, poor Brian was laughing and on the verge of tears, Roger was cheering and Deaky apparently had had enough of his friends because he sneaked onto the couch to smooch Veronica.

Delia looked back at Mary and shrugged. She wouldn’t trade her mess of a life with her boys for the most luxurious mansion.

 

-x- 

 

Her mess of a life would become unexpectedly messier after their newer adoptions.

It started as the average Saturday morning, meaning that Delia had to sneak her date out before any of the boys woke up. The blond man kissed her goodbye before she was able to close the door, and Delia leaned against it and frowned. What had even been his name…? Matt? Fuck, she really had to stop forgetting people’s names.

The next step of her average Saturday morning was making a cup of tea for the girl that irrevocably came out from Roger’s room wearing his shirt. The poor thing actually paled when she saw Delia, making the girl laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m just the flatmate. Tea?”

After retrieving Roger’s shirt and sending the girl on her way (she did have Roger’s number after all, and Delia was just not on the mood for any whiny one-night-stand to ruin her morning. She and Roger could easily contact each other again if any of them was interested) Delia took a long, not so hot shower to erase last night’s memories from her skin, although there was nothing she could do about the hickeys on her neck. She looked at them in the mirror for a few seconds before snuggling into a grey sweater she had found around and leaving the bathroom.

She almost ran into a barely awaken Deaky, who hit the door in his rush to arrive to the toilet. Delia wrinkled her nose at the sound of puking and went to prepare another cup of tea. The poor lad would need it.

And that’s when their newer adoptions arrived in arms of a quite hungovered-looking Freddie.

“Are we out of milk?” he yelled for the entire fucking building to hear as he entered the small kitchen. Delia smacked his arm.

“Don’t be so loud! And no, I think we still have plenty of it.”

“Good. These little guys are going to need it.” 

For a second, Delia almost believed she was still drunk. There was no way Freddie had just pulled three small kittens from his coat… Except that he had. The three little, whinny creatures looked around them with the most helpless expression Delia had ever seen and she instantly melted on the spot. “Oh my God, Freddie, where have you found them?” she asked, leaning over the kittens as her friend cradled them in his arms. Freddie looked away.

“Some… Some cold-hearted bastard dumped them. Dumped them as garbage, Delly, inside a bag!” he exclaimed, almost shaking in his anger. "Fuck's sake, we're in the middle of October, the cold could have killed them!" 

He only calmed down after one of the kittens rubbed itself against his bare neck. The poor thing was utterly filthy, but Freddie didn’t seem to mind. Delia silently petted one of the kittens, and it was so tiny that she only could use one finger. She could feel her heart shattering when the kitten meowed.

Delia and Freddie were so enthralled by the kittens that they barely heard a barefoot Deaky entering the kitchen.

“I feel like shit,” the bassist announced, rubbing his eyes. “Delia, please tell me you made tea… Wait, are those…? Are those cats? Am I still drunk?” 

One of the kittens meowed.

Not long after that, there was a band meeting in the kitchen. Band plus Delia, that is. While Deaky, Brian and Roger argued about the pros and cons of keeping the kittens, Delia looked at Freddie from her place on the table (they only had four chairs and she was the lightest, so that was her usual spot) and both nodded at each other.

“Roger, darling, allow me to knock some sense into you,” Freddie interrupted their drummer. “Either they stay, or Delia and I go.”

“What?” Deaky laughed. “No way.”

“No way, right?”  Roger asked after a few seconds of silence. Freddie just shrugged and played with his hair.  “Come on, Fred, I’m sure there’s plenty of people that would take them in. I’m not saying that we should dump them on the streets but we can’t keep three damn cats! Delia? Come on,” he pleaded, looking at her for support. She shrugged and hugged the kitten that had clung on to her clothes.

“We are keeping the cats. Period. And Brian agrees with me. Right, Bri?” she looked at their guitarist, who seemed undecided. Obviously, he could see the cons of taking in three small and probably sick kittens, but at the same time he loved animals as much as Freddie or Delia did. Freddie made puppy eyes at him and he sighed.

“Alright, I guess it’s fine. But you should take them to the vet, especially that one.” he pointed at the one that was clinging to Delia. “It doesn't look so well, and I don't want any of us getting sick. Roger, Deaks, what do you think?”

Deaky shrugged. “As long as they don’t mess with my equipment, I’m fine with them.”

“Rog?” Delia asked him. He groaned when he felt all the eyes on him, all the pressure.

“Okay, fine, whatever! Just, don’t expect me to bury them when they die or something.”

He said that looking at the small kitten in Delia’s arms. While she realistically knew he was right in his reasoning, it didn’t stop his words from falling on her like a bucket of cold water. He seemed to realize it because he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before storming out, leaving a tense silence behind. Brian sighed.

“I’ll go after him,” he said, patting Delia’s shoulder on his way out. She frowned, looking down at the kitten snuggled against her chest. It was small, true, but it didn’t look more sick than any of its siblings. It would survive.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” Deaky said after a few seconds. Delia shrugged and tried to smile.

“I know he didn't. It doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, enough with the large faces,” Freddie clapped his hands. A horrified expression settled on his face when he saw the sound had startled the kittens. “Let’s give these little guys a bath.”

“You should take a bath as well.”

“Always so charming, Deaky, you really know how to charm a man.”

“I mean, you stink worse than them. They are abandoned babies, what’s your excuse?”

Freddie threw his boot at Deaky. 

It took three baths, but after an hour and a half of struggling Delia stood in the bathroom with clean kittens that still tried to bite their hands as soon as they got close to their little mouths. They had obviously not enjoyed the water.

“Okay, so these two are the boys,” Freddie said, happily holding up two of the cats. After getting rid of the dirt, they turned out to have grey and brownish fur respectively. “And the little one is a lady.” 

Delia frowned when the ‘little lady’ tried to bite her thumb. “How do you know?”

“Oh, I just love these little guys. I nursed some kittens, back at home.”

Delia didn’t have to ask to know that by home he meant Zanzibar. Freddie tapped her on the shoulder to catch her attention.

“Darling, I don’t want to repeat Roger’s earlier words, but… I did nurse several kittens, and not all of them made it.”  Freddie looked heartbroken when he tried to pet the kitten, almost earning himself a scratch. He didn’t seem to mind. “She really is too small. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Delia looked at the tiny yet fierce kitten in her arms. She did look quite hopeless, with her wet white fur clinging to her little body and her mismatched blue and green eyes looking at them with distrust. Delia shook her head and Freddie didn’t say anything else.

The damn cat would make it, Roger’s words be damned.

 

-x-

 

Freddie named the male cats Tom and Jerry, because of their fur. Delia named the tiny cat after the proud Titania, queen of the fairies and a force to be reckoned with until her husband made her fall in love with a donkey of all things, in Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer's Night Dream_. Delia was very willing to be that donkey if it meant that Titania would stop trying to bite her.

“Titania is also one of Uranus’ moons.”

“I know, Brian, you’ve told me already… Come on, you little bitch, stop biting me and take your damn medicine!” Delia begged the kitten. Titania hissed. 

They had been able to take them to the vet after all, when Roger went behind their back and used his recently earned royalties to pay for it as a way of saying ‘Hey, I’m sorry I was a cunt’. The three cats were dewormed and had their shots, but Titania was still too small and Delia was worried, even if the cat was Freddie’s soulmate in terms of bitchiness. She already loved that little thing, and it would crush her if the cat didn’t make it.

It turned out that one of the few people able to beat both Freddie and Titania at being a bitch was Brian. Delia stared in amazement when he made the kitten swallow the pill after she made a show of hissing and fussing. 

“How did you…?”

“I had a cat when I was younger,” Brian said, wincing when Titania scratched his leg through the jeans.

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, the poor bastard died when I was a kid. She was almost worse than this one but I loved her anyway. My mum tried to make me believe she ran away, she won’t tell me the truth to this day.”

Brian spoke in a lighthearted tone, but he still looked a bit sad about the cat. Delia smiled and patted his arm.

“That’s kind of sweet, actually, that she tried to spare you the heartbreak… Oh, come on, give her to me, she’s going to destroy your jeans,” she said when she saw Titania fussing with the jeans’ rip on Brian’s bony knee.

“Your cat hates me,” he complained, grabbing the kitten and leaving her on Delia’s hands.

“My cat hates everybody, don’t feel so special… Oh, hi Mr Thompson.”

Delia and Brian hurried to move from their spot on the stairs, where they had been spending a good part of their morning. Roger had even gone to the shop and Freddie was actually in class, because Deaky’s finals were weeks away and in his anxiety, the poor thing was frenetically assembling and disassembling every electronic device they owned, for practice. They trusted him, they really did, and Delia was even of the opinion that maybe the telly would start working properly once Deaky was done with his tinkering. 

That didn’t mean that they were eager to stay in a place where they could get electrocuted, and that was what had them on the landing of the building, Delia fussing over her cat and Brian catching up on some physics papers. And both obstructing the stairs, of course. Mr Thompson barely gave Brian a look before ignoring Delia and going up the stairs, leaving them alone again. The older man lived on the flat above theirs and was very vocal about many of their habits, such as Roger and Freddie smoking on the balcony, the loud music or Delia sharing the flat with four men. Mr Thompson never talked to her if he could avoid it, but it was clear what he thought of her. What a good part of the building thought of her, actually.

Delia politely ignored him until he was gone and then sat down on the stairs again, struggling to stop Titania from jumping away from her lap and running off to God knows where. She only needed a look at Brian to see that he was actually considering saying something to Mrs Thompson, because even if Delia was used to their neighbour’s attitude, it had been plainly rude. He seemed to decide against it, however, and sat down as well. It made Delia grin.

“Aaand that’s why you are actually my favourite,” she joked. Brian looked back at his papers and snorted.

“Your favourite is Freddie, because he does your makeup. And I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Sure.”

Delia had lived on her own for a whole year after arriving in London when she was seventeen, and then alone with Katy for another two years. She was no stranger to defending herself and while it was sweet of her friends to band together to defend her ‘honour’, Delia had three issues with that. One, her honour was pretty much nonexistent those days. Two, she could throw a rather mean punch if needed, thank you very much. And three, her friends defending her usually ended with a bag of frozen peas on somebody’s eye. So she would prefer if they didn’t, _thanks_.

 

-x- 

  

Deaky’s November finals came and went, and suddenly they had a certified electric engineer among them. In Freddie’s book (and in Delia’s, she wasn’t going to start fooling herself) that was the perfect excuse for dolling up and clubbing.

“Please, remind me not to allow those two to get ready together again,” Mary begged from the other side of the door. Delia and Freddie didn’t pay her too much attention, focused on each other.

"I think I hate you a bit," Delia said, putting the nail polish bottle apart and closing her eyes so Freddie could do her makeup. She smelled his recently painted black nails when he got closer. "Why are you so fucking pretty? It's not fair. Share a bit, asshole."

"Says the one with this lovely shade of red." 

Delia felt a soft pull on a strand of her hair before Freddie got started with her eyeshadow.

"It's a pain in the ass to combine with clothing, and you know it," she mumbled. Most of her clothing was dark to avoid that issue and while she was wearing a yellowish dress that night and it didn't clash with her hair, it had taken ages for her and Roger to raid the shop looking for a garment of the right colour.

Freddie gave her a noncommittal hum. He switched the makeup brush for his hands and smudged the eyeshadow with his fingers before grabbing her hand and pulling her to the mirror. Delia could almost hear his grin.

"Well, don't we look dashing?" 

Delia opened her eyes, which looked impossibly bright and huge surrounded by the dark eyeshadow. It was a bit over the top but still, it was all Freddie, so she immediately loved it. She straightened her clothing with her hands and took her pleasure in fussing over Freddie's clothes (or rather his _lack_ of it, because that shirt covered absolutely nothing) before leaning on his chest. His arms went around her waist to hold her in place, and Delia absently fidgeted with his long necklace while they stared at their reflection. They looked good enough to eat, if she had to be honest. She leant back further until she was able to kiss Freddie's jaw. 

"Guys, come ooon!" Roger's voice came with the _thud_ of his head hitting the door. Freddie groaned and hid his face into Delia's neck, making her giggle. They stood apart, both giving the other one last review before they left the room much to their friend’s relief.

 “It was about time,” Deaky protested. Delia smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Don't get your panties in a wad, party boy.”

Frowning, Mary took Freddie’s hand and blew on his polished nails to make sure that they were dry. “I don't even know how it takes you guys so long to do your makeup.”

“Yeah,” Roger added, elbowing Delia. “Besides, you look like a racoon.”

“And you look like a girl, and yet we don’t talk about it.”

Roger didn’t stop pouting about it until Delia invited him to a beer.

They paraded through all their favourite places. Quite drunk and after almost losing Deaky and Veronica at some point (the poor things had to do a very public walk of shame back from the toilet), the group somehow wandered at three in the morning into a pub that had a… Different vibe. One Delia was familiar with. She exchanged a look with Freddie, who just shrugged and stood closer to Mary. As if that would fool Delia, or the man and the woman looking at them from the other side of the counter. 

“Do you think she’s into me?” Roger asked after downing his shot. Delia drank hers to avoid answering that, given the place they were at, chances were that said woman was more interested in Delia than Roger. It wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t one of those places that one could feel it even before going inside, but there it was. 

Roger kept on babbling about the woman, apparently oblivious to the man next to her that was quite desperately trying to catch his attention. Delia snorted. Her friend was too pretty for his own good. She discreetly shook her head at the man, who seemed to sigh and shrug in defeat. The woman, however, was a completely different story. Her dark eyes ran across Delia’s body in a way that made her shiver, _ache_ for it. 

After a couple of seconds of questioning, Delia made a gesture towards the exit. Both women smiled at the same time. Well.

“Guys, I think I’m calling it a night,” she announced to their dismay. It took her a few minutes to convince them that yeah, she was ‘tired’, and no, she didn’t need anybody to take her home. The flat wasn’t that far anyway. After kissing Deaky’s cheek one last time (“Take care of the party boy, Ronnie!”) Delia took her coat and left the place, entirely aware of the pair of heels that followed her path... 

And entirely aware of Freddie’s eyes, which had seen the whole thing.

 

-x-

 

 

Morning came so much faster than Delia had expected.

“Darling, rise and shine, we have that fucking meeting with Trident!” Freddie shouted outside her room. And it was Freddie, impossibly pretty and flamboyant Freddie who looked at men while holding Mary’s hand in his. And yet, the wave of panic that travelled through Delia made her stomach squirm.

“Fuck, I overslept,” said a voice behind her. Delia pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at the brunette woman sharing her bed, who got up to try to recover all her clothes from the floor.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, Freddie!” Delia shouted back. She heard Roger’s laugh and frowned. What the fuck? Were all her friends just hanging outside her door?

“Come on, Delly, we know you have a friend with you, don’t need to be weird about it. Just show him out so we can get ready.”

“Can’t you guys go alone?”

“Deeeeelly…” 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

“I… I should leave,” the other woman said. She had already got dressed and was giving Delia a small smile that, in other circumstances, would have made Delia ask for her number. But she didn’t. She put on her robe instead and breathed in. She had no actual hopes that her friends would get bored and leave, because they liked to mess with her and weren’t actually worried about being late to the meeting. 

The boys had probably been expecting some random guy that would feel threatened by them and hurry to leave as soon as possible. They sure as fuck didn’t expect Delia’s companion when she opened the door. Freddie’s eyes opened comically and Roger’s jaw nearly hit the floor, but Delia tried to pay no attention to them (or to Deaky and Brian, who were leaning against the wall of the hallway and looked just as surprised as the other two) and guided the woman outside.

After the awkward situation inside the flat, none of them tried to prolong it. They parted ways with a kiss on the cheek and Delia made her way back inside the flat, trying to pass by her friends as fast as possible. She really didn’t want to talk about it. 

Unfortunately, Roger never got the memo.

“Hey hey hey, wait a second,” he said, grabbing her arm gently enough that Delia could easily shake it off if she wanted. It made her stop in the middle of the hallway anyway. “Care to explain… That?”

“I'm going to be late to rehearsal, Rog." There wasn't a rehearsal planned, but after starting the morning that way she would rather run away to the theatre instead of going to their meeting, to be honest. "Besides, I have nothing to explain.”

“Are you sure?”

Delia held his gaze for a few tense seconds before they were interrupted.

“Rog, maybe we should…”

“I mean, she’s right, Deaky, she doesn’t have to explain shit,” Roger’s words carried the power and the rage he usually gave to his drumsticks and it made Delia step backwards. “But we’re her fucking friends, she could have fucking told us she’s gay.”

“I’m not gay.”

“Oh, I must have missed the memo about blokes having tits now!” 

Brian glared at him. “Roger, I think you are overstepping,” he said, speaking for the first time since Delia had left her room. With his oversized t-shirt of The Who sliding down his shoulder and about to discuss Delia’s sexuality, he was the impersonation of a feverish dream. “It’s up to her if she shares _that_ with anybody, even her friends.”

Delia couldn’t believe they were having that talk in their hallway at nine in the morning and in their pyjamas. She glanced at Freddie for help, but her friend was uncharacteristically pale and quiet. Not that she could blame him, given the circumstances. 

“I would share _that_ with you guys!”

“Nobody is asking you to do that, Rog, that’s the whole point,” Delia defensively crossed her arms. “I don’t ask about who any of you fuck, you could give me the same consideration.”

“Well, yes, I would do that. But I just don’t understand!” To be fair, Roger really seemed more annoyed and confused than anything else. “I mean, I heard you with that dude last week?”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, the day Freddie arrived with the cats,” the drummer insisted, barely paying attention to Brian’s confusion. “And I heard you sneak him out in the morning. So…”

“Oh my fucking God, Rog, is that what all this shit is about?” After so much time, the words came out from Delia’s mouth almost without her permission. “I like both. Women, men, whatever, I don’t fucking care.” 

Roger’s face didn’t twitch one bit, and the others’... Delia didn’t really dare to look at their faces. Not even when Freddie leant against her side. His hand found hers and clutched it tightly, the gesture hidden behind their bodies.

“Although I do have a preference for the ladies, actually,” Delia added, almost as an afterthought. Might as well come clean about the whole thing once and for all. “So if it’s going to be a problem, you can tell me right now and I will kindly fuck off.”

“Delly, don’t say that.”

Of all the things she expected, Deaky intervening in such a delicate topic wasn’t one of them.

“Please, don’t tell me you actually thought we would want you to leave just because you’re into girls,” he pleaded.

“Dunno,” Delia shrugged. “Haven’t really had this talk ever before, but as far as I know, it usually ends with people being disowned from their families’ houses. People don’t like you if you’re different.”

At that point Freddie’s grasp on her hand was becoming nearly painful, and Delia could barely feel her fingers. Roger’s sudden outburst startled her.

“Bollocks! We would never do that, how the fuck do you think…?”

“Okay, enough with all this nonsense,” Brian interrupted him. The guitarist actually looked a bit mad when he stared at Delia. “Delly, this is bullshit. We don’t have a problem with Freddie, why the fuck would we have a problem with you?”

“Wait, _what?_ ”

Delia was pretty sure she had never heard Freddie hitting such a high note ever before. The three other boys looked at him and Roger actually cackled in disbelief.

“What, was it supposed to be a big secret or something? Breaking news, mate, it has never been.” 

In other circumstances, Delia would have found Freddie’s stammering amusing.

“What-What the fuck are you…?”

“Freddie, come on. I was the last one to meet you and even I noticed it.” Deaky shrugged. “You can’t believe that you could share a flat with us and we wouldn’t realize eventually.”

“But, but… Guys, I’m with Mary,” Freddie said, looking them in the eye one by one. “Like, I actually _am_ with my girlfriend.”

Brian pinched his nose. “Good for you, Fred, but please don’t even try to pretend that liking girls automatically makes you straight, because we _know_ you. We are straight, not fucking blind.”

Somehow he managed to sound tired about the whole thing, even while next to Delia Freddie looked about to freak the hell out. Roger groaned.

“Oh my God, this is worse than the fucking broken phone. Okay, listen. We don’t have a problem with Delia, we’ve known Freddie isn’t straight for years -mate, sorry to break it to you, but you can’t lie to us to save your life-, and we obviously don’t want any of you to leave. We love you, guys. We won’t have a problem with all of this unless Delia tries to steal Ronnie away from Deaky or something.”

“Roger, what the fuck, why would I even try to hit on his girlfriend?”

“I don’t know but please, don’t do that. You are too pretty, I just can’t compete,” Deaky joked. 

Something gave in inside her and the wave of relief nearly made Delia cry then and there, but Freddie still looked worried.

"Did you know too?" he whispered to Delia. She grimaced.

"I did, but, I don't know... I thought I could see it because of myself being that way. 'em gays stick together and all that."

“Is… Is it that obvious?” he asked the others, raising his voice. Something in his voice was begging them to say ‘no’. Deaky smiled a bit and patted his back.

“I’m pretty sure that most people think it’s just part of the whole glam vibe, mate. I wouldn't worry too much."

"I mean, you are with Mary after all, and so far nobody’s tried to beat you up or something. Right?” Brian asked, fearing for a second that Freddie had hidden something like that from them. Freddie shook his head. “See?”

“And if they try, we’ll just fuck them up. Easy,” Roger stated, suddenly getting closer to Delia and engulfing her into a rib-crushing hug. She relaxed against him, feeling his breath on her neck for a few seconds. “ _Sorry_ ," he whispered before pulling back. Delia smiled and nodded, kissing his cheek, and watched him engulf Freddie in another rib-crushing hug that lasted even longer.

"Okay." Deaky lightheartedly put an arm around Brian and looked at them one by one. "Now, if everybody has their shit back together, I’d like to have breakfast in peace and go to our damn meeting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -In This Household We Appreciate Brian Harold May's Curls.  
> -No, seriously, he hated his hair when he was a teen and put actual effort into straightening it?? I'm going to cry.  
> -Ok so it seems that Roger accidentally sold Freddie's jacket at some point and for some reason 1) I find it terribly funny, idk why 2) I picture the jacket being the infamous Angry Lizard Jacket™ from the movie.  
> -I've tinkered a bit with the movie in regards to their management (I also edited the previous chapter) so now the boys are getting who was actually their first manager, one Norman Sheffield from Trident Records, instead of John Reid from EMI. He'll make his appearance in due time.  
> -(Also, Sheffield started being their manager in 1972 instead of 1971, but tbh at least I got it more accurately than the movie did)  
> -About Roger's jar of teeth. Idk, my friend studies dentistry and he does have a jar of teeth, so I wrote that in. I'm not sure when Roger switched over to bio tho.  
> -Living with four boys in their shitty flat in the early 70s... Enough said. Yeah, no wonder why Mary wouldn't want to share Delia's experience.  
> -The cats!! Okay I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure that among the first ones Freddie had, there were Tom and Jerry. I've decided he named them like that because their fur matches the cartoons' fur, why not. About Titania, she's based on my mom's friend's cat, who was indeed a sick, bitchy kitten before turning into a majestuous, slightly less bitchy cat.  
> -Also, Brian did have a cat when he was younger and the poor thing died. I'm not sure about .his mom trying to hide it. being true and not some fandom trope but still, there you go. He also wrote 'All dead, all dead' about the cat. I love that song and it also makes me cry a bit, fight me.  
> -Again, Delia lives in a flat with four boys in the early 70s. Enough said about the neighbours' attitude towards her.  
> -I'm not sure about when Deaky finished his exams, but let's pretend it was in 1971 so he can go partying with his gf and his friends, shall we?  
> -Not that important, but this is what I picture Delia wearing when she goes clubbing in this chapter (https://i.pinimg.com/originals/dd/6c/3f/dd6c3f2e056fcb5b86c76bd58c040e9b.jpg)  
> -Alright, about the coming out. I'm truly curious about what the boy's reaction was back in the 70s/80s because, let's face it. They were a rock band and suddenly one of them is into boys(...) I think it's safe to assume that the band reacted pretty well and didn't care, but it sure as fuck wasn't easy for poor Freddie. Or maybe it was, maybe he bullshited his way through it and looked at pretty boys for long enough that the others eventually got the hint. We'll never know.  
> -For the fic's purposes, well, you've read how it went. The boys go into supportive bro mode and... Well. We'll see.  
> -About Delia's sexuality, you read it here first. She doesn't give one single, flying fuck about her partners' gender/lack of it/whatever. In an actual AU there would be some discussion about pansexuality, although she would -personally- prefer the term bisexual. In this fic we're in the 70s and the term bisexual isn't that usual yet (?) so yup, no labels for now.  
> -About Freddie's... Look, I'm going to stick to the movie's version here just because I'm not that comfortable messing with that part of his life. This fic is based on the movie after all, even if I'm adding stuff from the real events. My fic's Freddie goes both ways and heavily leans towards men, period. The only two things I'm going to say about the real Freddie are that 1) he would probably have fun with people's discussions about his sexuality 2) he would also probably care more about people talking and writing about his cats and his husband.  
> -I have no clue if I'm handling Deaky's characterization properly, sos.  
> -Somebody tell me if you got that Derry Girls reference ;)


	5. 1972

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I've got faceclaims!  
> -Delia: Deborah Ann Woll with red hair  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/28/93/a2/2893a27f8fc5e990a1e22c2756d53146.png  
> -Veronica: Jenna Coleman  
> http://series-tv-news.fr/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/Jenna-Coleman-rempile-dans-la-saison-9-doctor-who.jpg
> 
> I don't know if I'm seeing things, but does anybody else think that Jenna kinda looks a bit like Veronica in that photograph of her with Deaky wearing a towel on his head?

Recording an album might not be such a nerve-wracking experience for others. For Delia, it made her want to jump out of the bloody balcony.

The boys had spent the first half of the year either writing their lyrics or arguing with each other about them, about who what song would be in what side, who would play or sing what.

“Don’t even fucking look at me,” Deaky had stated at some point, tired of all the arguing. “I don’t sing, period.”

They showed Delia some of the songs but not all of them, and she wasn’t really sure if she wanted to know the criteria behind those decisions. She already knew of Keep Yourself Alive, sure, and she fell in love with their instrumental version of Seven Seas of Rhye as soon as she heard it. However, they wouldn’t show her Liar, or Son and Daughter. Freddie gave her a charming smile when she asked why.

“Oh, dear, you don’t want to spoil it, believe me,” he told her about Liar. “You will love it.”

“It isn’t personal, but you won’t like it,” Brian grimaced instead, taking the notebook away from her hands before she could read the lyrics of Son and Daughter. “You are the one in charge of cooking right now, I prefer not to make you angry for as long as possible.” 

Delia was the one with more free time, as she had all but stopped participating in plays. She was trying to get ready for the auditions to the National Theatre Company, which meant quite a lot of declamating Hamlet and playing around with as many characters as she could but little time outside the flat, except for the nights she worked at the pub or some random meetings with other aspiring actors. So, she got in charge of cooking. In other circumstances she would have been mad about it. Of course, the only girl in the flat had to cook. But Delia knew that if any of her friends had time to cook themselves, they would definitely do it because she barely knew how to fry an egg. She wasn’t as bad as Freddie, who couldn't even use the bloody microwave, but still, the boys probably wanted Delia out of the kitchen as much as she did.

There had been a couple of difficult moments before they started recording, when they thought they wouldn’t be able to meet their deadline (not that they had a deadline that wasn’t self-imposed, because Trident didn’t give a fuck about when or how they wrote the songs as long as they were recorded as soon as possible), or when college became too much for them. At one point Roger threw a fit, and the telly out of the window, after failing an exam. Freddie was the only one able to calm him down via aggressive cuddles and a night out, and by the end of the month Roger had switched over to biology. 

Brian, their poor Brian, had started to shift between silent, almost depressive episodes during which he wouldn’t talk to anybody and moments of pure anxiety that had him yelling in distress at the faintest noise that distracted him from working on his doctorate. The others called him a bitch under their breath but stuffed towels under the door to muffle as much noise as possible, and tiptoed around the room he shared with Roger.

Deaky was immensely grateful for being done with his finals and sometimes helped Freddie at the shop when neither Roger or Delia were available. To their amusement, quite a lot of old ladies had taken a liking to the bassist and became loyal clients of the little shop.

“They don’t know who they are fussing about,” Freddie protested, lying on the shop’s piano and furiously nibbling on a pen as he rewrote part of My Fairy King. “The quiet ones are the worst, _Deliadear_  believe me.”

Those days, ‘Delia’ and ‘dear’ seemed to merge on his lips into a weird, lovely nickname. Delia deadpanned and took a pic of him with the camera Roger had brought home one day. It was going straight to the scrapbook she was working on.

In all honesty, the only good thing that happened during those months was that Delia and Freddie managed to keep the cats alive. Period.

Then June started, and with it came the nasty surprise of having to record their songs during the studio’s downtime.

“It does make sense if you think about it,” Brian said, ignoring Roger’s tantrum on the background even while his own face reflected his impending exhaustion. “Nobody really knows us, they won’t give us good hours so easily. At least they have good equipment.” 

The horrible schedule had the boys recording in frenetic sessions from nightfall to dawn. Then each one would go to college, to open the shop or to practice acting respectively. When they were done, the boys would crawl back to the flat, devour whatever Delia had put together for lunch and collapse on the couch in a messy pile of limbs, cats and pillows. More often than not, Delia would join for a quick nap. Then she would practice for a bit more, prepare several thermoses of coffee, wake them up for dinner and go with them to the studio. Delia, Veronica and Mary were supposed to take turns so Delia could work at the club some nights, although many times all the girls were at the studio together.

They weren’t that useful, but at the very least they prepared coffee and little snacks while they watched the boys work, and provided moral support and a warm lap for napping.

“Poor things,” Delia mumbled as she petted Brian’s hair. The guitarist, unlike his friends, was out like a light. Freddie groaned from where he was sharing Mary’s lap with Roger.

“That bitch thought it was a good idea to go full vegetarian in the middle of this mess. He hasn’t touched the food, he’s running on caffeine,” he explained, his voice muffled by Mary's lap.

“That’s why he isn’t eating what we prepare?” Veronica almost hit one of Freddie’s highest notes. “Oh my God, he should have told us!”

Veronica and Mary were almost as bad as Delia when it came to cooking, but the three together managed to prepare something pretty similar to a vegetarian version of stuffed aubergines. The poor Brian almost cried the next night when he saw the tupperware, ignoring his friends’ protests because they had only gotten sandwiches that time. 

“Brian has barely eaten for a week, I think you guys will survive on sandwiches for a night,” Delia told them, sipping her coffee while Brian effusively thanked Veronica.

“I didn’t want to make you work harder, you girls are already doing for us more than you should...”

“Shut the fuck up, May, and eat,” Veronica ordered with a stern tone but also a smile. Deaky giggled at his girlfriend’s temperament. 

Brian’s pleased sounds while he stuffed his face for the first time in several days erased all kind of protests from his bandmates, who smiled and quietly ate their sandwiches.

Many other nights, however, weren’t a bed of roses at all. The boys worked really hard but sometimes the studio producers were straight up bitches. 

“We can only fucking work on one track at a time, and they want us to re-record everything? I’m gonna shove the drumsticks up their…!”

“You won’t be doing that, Roger, because those are the only drumsticks you have.” Deaky deadpanned. Veronica softly tried to intervene.

“Look at the brighter side, guys. They want you to re-record it with better equipment. At least…”

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Freddie interrupted her. Mary gawked at her boyfriend for a few seconds before turning to Roger for help. Roger and Deaky exchanged a glance and the drummer tried to talk Freddie out of it, but the singer just threw the microphone. “No, I’m serious, I’m fucking tired of those wankers pissing on us, I’m done!”

Freddie stormed out after the tantrum that followed, which, to be honest, didn’t quite surprise anybody. Delia sighed and leant on Veronica’s shoulder while Roger used the break to have a smoke, and overall they just rested for a bit. Until Deaky stood up to take his bass and realized it had been almost an hour since Freddie left.

Roger and Deaky all but started to lose their shit, thinking that Freddie had actually left for good. Brian, however, just sighed.

“Your boyfriend is unbearable,” he told Mary. He took the microphone Freddie had discarded earlier and called into it. “Freddie?” he teased. “Freddie-poo? Freddiekins, where are you?” 

Delia giggled harder at each one of the pet names, and when Freddie comically poked his head back in the room she started to laugh so much that she was about to cry from it.

“Don’t call me that! Delly, stop laughing!”

Brian smiled. “I knew that would get you back in here.”

“You have been sitting on the hallway all along, right?” Delia managed to ask her friend once she recovered her breath. Freddie shrugged.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, making Brian laugh and give him a friendly nudge.

“Come on, you drama queen. Let’s give them a run for their money.”

In retrospective, Brian’s little strategy had worked a little bit too well, and Freddie’s revenge came in the shape of unending mixing sessions because he didn’t like the resulting Keep Yourself Alive. The others supported his claims (either because he was right about the song or because they wanted to mess with the producers, Delia wasn’t that sure). Thankfully, after eight failed attempts, it was a young engineer called Mike Stone the one who finally got the boy’s approval.

“It was about time,” Veronica grumbled. “I was about to hit somebody with the bass.”

 

-x-

 

During the mixing, there was nothing the boys could do to keep Delia from hearing the songs. Liar straight up stole her heart ( _I'm gonna kneel down by your side and pray…_ ) and The Night Comes Down gave her a weird, kinda anxious feeling. It was almost scary to think that their Brian had written those lyrics. Delia really hoped they were only that, lyrics.

In comparison, Son and Daughter was so much easier to understand.

“Your parents wanted a daughter, right?” she asked him one night, while the rest of Queen was harassing poor Mike Stone into re-remixing Doing All Right. The two other girls had gone to the toilet, so Delia and Brian were alone, sharing the studio’s crappy couch. “My dad never really cared about sons or daughters, but he did want me to be like my sisters. Your song kinda feels that way. Others wanting you to be something you can’t be.”

Delia rested her cheek on her hand and watched her friend shift uncomfortably. She was ready to drop the subject as soon as Brian asked her to, but to her surprise the guitarist just sighed.

“You are almost right, but not quite. My mother did want a daughter. The one she lost before she had me.”

“Oh, Bri…”

Brian’s only reaction was a sad smile before he dropped his head on her lap, as all the boys had been doing for the past weeks when everything else became unbearable and the only safe places around were the warm laps of three girls who loved them unconditionally. The poor thing fell asleep in seconds, hugging Delia’s waist and igniting in her a fierce protectiveness. Oh, how she loved those boys.

 

-x-

 

Brian's birthday was the first one they celebrated properly, even if the morning of the19th of July they were so tired that nobody was able to move from the couch.

"Worth it," Freddie claimed, face still hidden in Deaky's lap as he waited for the hangover to go away.

Roger's birthday was brutal. There was too much alcohol, they lost Brian at some point and Delia didn't quite remember the night of the 26th of July but she woke up still wearing a rainbow wig that nobody knew where it had come from. Then came Deaky's birthday, the 19th of August (Veronica partied harder than any of them and almost got into a fight with a biker) and Freddie's. The 5th of September the five of them plus Mary and Veronica found themselves having lunch at the Bulsara's again, and the party that followed that same night was so wild that they lost Freddie and didn't find him for two days afterwards.

Those weren't nice parties, at all, because even if Freddie had expensive tastes they didn't have the money to pay for them yet. The little that Delia remembered from those nights was loud and trashy and by Deaky's birthday they all had been snogged by Freddie at least twice, because that man was the flirtiest and cuddliest drunk Delia had ever met. To her amusement, none of her friends seemed to mind.

"I mean, it's Freddie," Roger tried and failed to explain at some point. 

But she loved those parties. She loved helping to organise them, keeping the birthday boy as unaware as possible, getting booze and a bit of weed (much to Brian's dismay, who hated any kind of smoking). Trying to drink Freddie and Veronica under the table, dancing with Deaky and playfully fighting Roger over pretty girls. Mary and Brian would pretend to be saints, at first, until the alcohol made them drop the pretence and give into the partying just like the rest of their friends. 

More often than not, Deaky and Veronica would sneak to a dark corner. Mary had a great time dancing with Freddie and pretending not to see how he looked at other men as he got progressively drunker (and Delia didn't know how those two were still going steady but damn if she didn't support them). One too many beers would make Brian trip and be held by two of his friends on the way back home, as he looked up to the sky and rambled about the stars with his slurred voice. Delia and Roger were the ones that would disappear the most right after Freddie, ditching their friends for a pair of pretty legs in a skirt. They would reappear the day after at the studio still wearing the clothes from the night before and the others would roast them endlessly.

"It's not my fault that she wasn't into blonds, Rog," Delia said to a pouting Roger when she came back having lost her bra.

The 1st of November, however, nobody celebrated a birthday. Delia wasn't able to smile at the boys' shenanigans (they were not so playfully fighting over Modern Times Rock 'n' Roll) as she started to compulsively braid and unbraid her hair. It was getting a bit too long, but she wouldn't cut it yet. She felt her eyes watering when she remembered a woman with those same braids in old photographs.  

“Delly, you okay?” Deaky asked, almost startling her. Delia made an effort to smile.

“Yeah, just a bit tired, that’s all.”

She did her best to ignore Freddie’s inquisitive gaze. Veronica, however, wasn’t known for being fooled around easily. She promptly got up from the couch once Delia’s lips started to tremble. “Delia, come get some coffee with me,” she said as she gave Mary a silent look. Mary promptly interrupted the boys, asking something about the song, and in the discussion that followed nobody paid attention to them when Veronica took Delia’s hand in their way out.

To give her some credit, Delia made it to the coffee machine before she broke down crying. Veronica gave her a sad smile and hugged her. “Come on, come on,” she mumbled, petting her hair and walking Delia to a nearby chair. “Whatever it is, get it off your chest.”

It took Delia almost ten long minutes before she could control her breath again and stop crying, and Veronica held her through all of it.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Can I help?” 

Sitting on the chair, Delia hugged Veronica’s waist and hid her face against her stomach. “No. Nobody can fix it.”

“What happened?”

“I...I tried to phone my dad this morning.” Delia confessed. “I didn’t phone last year, I had moved in with the boys and knew he wasn’t happy at all so I didn’t try to talk to him or to my sisters.”

“So you had an argument with your father this morning?”

Delia’s sudden hiccup shook her whole body. “I couldn’t. He hung up. Then I phoned my sisters, but they didn’t even pick up the phone.”

The sound of footsteps distracted her, but Delia made no effort to let go of her friend.

“We are having an emotional breakdown here, can you give us some minutes?” she heard Veronica saying. Whoever had followed them went back to the recording room without saying anything. Delia thought it was probably Freddie. Veronica sighed and started to run her hands through Delia’s hair. “Somebody died today, right?” she asked after a few seconds, slowly, as if she wasn’t sure it was her place to ask. Delia had never lied about it unless you count lying by omission. And still, she was tired of it.

“How do you know?”

“All your clothes are black and you have been braiding and unbraiding your hair for an hour. I remember that it was the same last year, around the same date.”

Damn, Delia hadn’t thought somebody would notice if she was down for one or two days. It wasn’t like it affected her full time all around the year, it was only at the end of October and the beginning of November that she would feel like shit. Nobody had realized so far… Nobody but Veronica, of course. And maybe Deaky, she thought after a second. He had asked her a while earlier, after all, and their quiet bassist was much more observant than many people would think. Delia took a deep breath against Veronica’s warm belly.

“My… My mother died. When she gave birth to me.” 

A tear ran down Delia’s cheek when she felt Veronica going stiff against her.

“Oh, shit. Today’s your birthday?” she asked, gently grabbing Delia’s face to look her in the eyes. “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have organized something to cheer you up.”

“Please, don’t,” Delia begged. “That’s the last thing I want these days. Please. I… I know it’s fucked up, okay? But I’ve never been able to celebrate it.”

“You’ve never had a birthday!?”

“Don’t be silly, of course I had birthdays.” _My family wasn’t always fucked up_ , she almost added. “But I always had the feeling nobody was truly happy during my birthdays, and when I was ten I learnt what had happened to my mom and… I don’t know. I never felt like celebrating anymore. It felt wrong.”

Delia couldn’t tell her the rest. Her father’s depressive moods that lasted all through October to December, the pain and anger poorly hidden in her sisters’ eyes while Delia blew the candles. It had been Martha the one who told her, or rather screamed at her, that _mom was dead_ and that _it was her fault_. Their father had quickly taken her to her bedroom while a tearful Lucy cut the cake for Delia. The realization hadn’t hit her until later that day when she was playing in their backyard. She had killed their mother. The woman that always had her red hair in a braid and smiled in the photographs was dead, Delia had never met her, and it was her own damn fault. 

One year later, she had told her father she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday. She had almost cried when she saw his relief.

 But she couldn’t tell that to Veronica even when she could see in her friend’s eyes the new shadow of doubt, the shadow of wondering how fucked in the head Delia was. The answer was ‘quite’. She knew her reasons not to celebrate her birthday were completely wrong, she knew that she hadn’t killed her mother. Of course she hadn’t really killed her, she had been a baby. But she had never been able to shake that feeling off.

 “Don’t tell the others. Please,” she added. Veronica frowned.

“At some point they will realize we celebrate everybody’s birthday but yours. Hell, last month we celebrated the cats’ birthdays.”

“I’ll come up with something, I just don’t want them to worry. I’m okay,” Delia said, and it felt like she was trying to convince herself. “I’ll be sad for a few days but it will go away at some point, and everything will be alright again. Please.”

She had long promised Roger not to hit on Veronica. But the truth was that the pure relief she felt when Veronica nodded after a few seconds almost made Delia stand up and kiss her. Almost. She smiled a bit and kissed her belly instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Delia, Veronica and Mary are supportive friends™  
> -The recording of their first album was indeed a bit of a mess and the whole Freddie storming out of the studio thing is actually true, although irl they had been arguing about a song so he noped tf out until Brian made him come back. I couldn't not include that anecdote, it's unbearably cute.  
> -Apparently Freddie didn't know how to use a microwave (?)  
> -The whole Son and Daughter talk is based on some really interesting meta I found around.  
> -There are actually a couple of pics and videos of Roger with a rainbow wig, he looks too cute.  
> -I have a bit of a headcanon that Freddie was that kind of person that would just smooch anybody in his way, for the fun of it, and that the boys didn't care about it because it was Freddie and his ways of showing his love. Maybe Brian and Deaky would care a bit more (?) but just because I don't see them as the kind of people that would be into PDA.  
> -In my mind, Veronica is the impersonation of No Fucks Given™. I've read the irl Veronica described as lovely and unpretentious and she is all of that in the fic as well, but she must also have a serious lack of chill if she married Disco Deaky, let's be honest here.  
> -Delia might have a smol™ crush on Veronica but come on, who wouldn't.  
> -I've just realized I barely talk about the cats in this chapter, I'll try to fix that in the next one :/


	6. 1973

Months passed quickly, too quickly. Finishing the recording of the album in November, Christmas at the flat in December with Veronica and Mary and Jer Bulsara’s delicious food in tupperwares, New Year’s party, it all disappeared in front of Delia’s eyes almost before she could register it.

Suddenly she was outside the Old Vic theatre after her audition for the National Theatre Company, quietly freaking out about it because she couldn’t quite believe that it was all over. Months of neverending practising and acting and reading until she knew the plays better than herself, nights of cancelled gigs and plans with the boys to study all the scripts she could put her hands on, in hopes of improving.

It was over. For better or worse, whatever the outcome was, it was over. It was over and Delia was tired and in a cold January’s evening, all she wanted to do was to go home, drink something warm and cuddle with a cat, or the three of them preferably. 

Instead, she found all her friends waiting for her at the stairs in front of the theatre.

“What the… Freddie!” she yelped when Freddie all but jumped on her, almost sending both to the floor. She heard Roger and Mary laughing.

“Congratulations, Delly!”

“Come on, it’s just an audition,” Delia said, not even trying to stop Freddie when he started to pepper kisses all over her face. After all that time, she knew better. “And what are you guys even doing here? I didn’t tell you the audition was today…”

“You didn’t tell them, but you told me.” Veronica shrugged without any hint of shame on her face, while Roger happily pushed Freddie away so he could hug Delia.

“And she told me, and I told them.” Deaky smiled.

“I don’t know if I hate you or I love you. And…”

“You love me, of course…”

“…Brian, what the fuck are you doing here? For God’s sake, you have an exam tomorrow!” 

The guitarist only smiled and joined the hug pile for a few seconds, surrounding both Delia and Roger at the same with his long arms.

“There isn’t much more I can learn in one evening. Besides, you were there in the gigs and while we recorded and everything. It’s only fair that we are here for you as well.”

“God.” Delia looked up to avoid shedding tears like a moron. It was a bit too much, all those months’ pressure inside her suddenly gone and all her friends suddenly turning up at the theatre to support her. “Have I told you guys I really love you?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Deaky snorted while Roger laughed into Delia’s neck, still hugging her and apparently with no intentions of letting go.

“So… Drinks?” Mary suggested. “We must celebrate.”

“Mary, I haven’t been accepted into the company.”

“Yet, dear, _yet_ ,” Freddie pointed out.

 

-x-

 

They celebrated it. When Brian left to take him exam the morning after, Delia, Roger and Veronica wished him luck from their cuddle pile on the couch. Brian gave them a warm smile before jumping over Freddie’s sleeping form on the floor and going out of the door.

 He passed, of course he passed the exam, and Freddie threw a pink feather boa around him in their way out to the club to celebrate that as well. Delia woke up the morning after cuddled against Deaky and Veronica, with Mary’s head on her lap and Freddie sleeping against her legs. On the floor in front of them, Brian was curled around Roger and using his stomach as a pillow. Roger didn’t seem to mind the extra weight, as he slept soundly even when Titania, Tom and Jerry arrived to investigate the scene and touched his head with their little paws. Delia smiled and closed her eyes again, pretty sure that she hadn’t felt so much love in her entire life.

 

-x-

 

Nobody ever told them that making a living as a band was going to be easy. Pretty much the opposite, actually. They weren’t really surprised when April started and after all those months Trident still hadn’t found a record company that would release their album, but acceptance didn’t make it feel better either.

At least, they had time to focus on other things for a while. Roger and Brian worked hard on college. Roger actually might had worked a bit too hard, because his eyes suddenly hurt and his vision was horrible during the week it took him to get his shit together and get himself some glasses. Delia thought he looked terribly cute and took a pic of him wearing them before nobody could stop her.

He and Freddie still worked at the shop, while Deaky even got himself a part-time job to make some money while they waited for the band to really take off. Delia found herself too nervous to act as she waited for the National Theatre Company’s final verdict, so she took a few more shifts at the club to make more money. That went on until one too many drunk bastards decided not to take ‘no’ for an answer. He got a broken chair to the back (Veronica’s courtesy, she almost started a bar fight) and Delia was so done that she quitted for good. She had been hoping to find a job as a waitress or similar, but Freddie and Roger all but bullied her into working with them at the shop.

So there she was, selling old records and vintage decoration and clothing from the 20s and 30s… With Titania on her shoulder. Freddie liked to take his cats with him to the shop, and as soon as Titania realized that she wouldn’t stop meowing until Delia took her along as well. And then, the damn cat took a liking to jumping on her shoulder so she could paw at Delia’s hair and earrings. It was slightly annoying but also terribly endearing so Delia didn’t try to shoo the cat away and just paraded around with a cat on her frigging shoulder like some kind or pirate captain with a parrot.

Overall, she was pretty much calm and enjoying life for a bit. However, and for all he tried to hide it, Freddie was a mess. He was more nervous than the other three boys and the only reason Delia found was the difference in their careers. The four of them were trying to make it as a band, sure, but Brian had his doctorate, Roger wasn’t doing nearly bad in biology, and Deaky had engineering and a job. Freddie had a design degree, an unrelated job at a shop and Jer and Bomi Bulsara as parents.

Freddie’s parents were lovely, really, but Delia had the feeling that a shop wasn’t really what they had had in mind for their son. And no matter how Freddie tried to rebel away from their shadow, he loved them, and he kind of wanted their approval and to know that they thought he was doing something good and worthy with his life. Delia was almost completely sure of that.

In his unease, Freddie turned really needy. He had always been, to a degree, and that was why it didn’t quite stand out. Except that at the beginning most of it had been an act and now he seemed insecure. Delia thought that it was part of the reason why they had hit it off since the very beginning. Freddie had a nearly pathological need for reassurance (and that was almost funny, coming from somebody able to put people at his feet with a glance) and Delia had always been happy when left to fuss and care about her boys.

So she did just that, and scheduled a photoshoot for them. It didn’t quite work out as she had expected.

“I promise, this is all the photographer’s doing,” she insisted. “I never said anything about doing it topless.”

“Sure thing, Delly. If you wanted a peek at all of this so badly, you should have asked sooner.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rog.” 

Roger laughed, but neither he or the others complained when Delia and Freddie put makeup and some jewellery on them. Delia took almost as many pics of them as the photographer did, because the boys looked unbearably gorgeous. After a few years she was used to Freddie’s beauty so she had avoided gaping and staring like a fool when she saw his cheekbones and dark eyes accentuated by the makeup. The others, however, were a different story. Delia had never seen them in makeup before and had to admit that Roger honestly to God swept her off her feet.

“Stop being so pretty, you look like a girl.” 

And because that jerk knew very well that Delia’s type was blonde and cute girls, he unabashedly winked at her.

“I’m the prettiest girl, fight me.” 

Nothing Delia could come up with would actually go the way she wanted, so it wasn’t long before she found herself mildly bullied into joining the photoshoot.

“If you actually use this pic instead of the others, I will fucking end you,” she threatened the boys, leaving the dressing room in her jeans, topless and using a white feather boa to cover her breasts. Freddie sighed.

“You’ve said that four times, now come over here!”

Delia sat between Freddie and Brian, who after a moment took off one of the multiple necklaces he had been wearing and carefully put it on Delia’s head sort of like a crown. She turned to face the poor photographer, who seemed a bit confused at how easily she was standing there half naked with the boys. Delia rolled her eyes. After two years of sharing a flat and nobody ever putting the bloody sock on the doors’ handle, there was very little they hadn’t seen of each other.

“So?” she asked. “Are you ready?”

The photographer nodded and started clicking the camera button.

 

-x-

 

“I really can’t believe you hung it here,” Mary commented, frowning at the wall over the couch where they had hung the pic of the five of them topless. “What if somebody’s parents see it?”

Without saying a thing, Deaky flipped the frame and revealed the picture of their three cats on the other side.

“Oh, of course.”

Delia might had gotten a bit more undressed than she had expected to, but in the end their little photoshoot made the trick and Freddie stopped sulking around.

It had other effects as well. Delia couldn’t help but notice how the others started taking more care about their appearance, how Roger got fervently got into fashion and started coming home with fur coats from the shop that Freddie would help him fix, because he couldn’t afford a brand new one yet. Brian actually made some effort to tame and style his hair into the prettiest curls Delia had ever seen, and started using necklaces on a daily basis for no reason at all. And Deaky, well, his appearance didn’t change that much but he did grow his hair the longest of the four of them, and that was saying something taking into account Roger’s long blond hair.

“He lets me braid it,” Veronica proudly announced to Delia and Mary, making her boyfriend turn around so the girls could see the hairstyle.

Brian was, however, the only one who got into nail polish when Freddie suggested it. Roger refused; girls in biology weren’t allowed to wear nail polish because they had to work in the labs, so a man wouldn’t be the exception. Deaky just wasn’t into it, but Brian shrugged.

“Nobody gives a shit about appearances when you study for a PhD, as long as you look like a conservative when you submit the thesis.”

“That makes sense. I mean, darling, look at your clogs...”

“Fred, watch it.”

From her place on the corner of the couch, Delia giggled.

The others were out, so it was just the three of them on the couch, the cats roaming free and David Bowie’s last album on the record player. After taking ownership of the middle and comfier spot of the couch, Freddie claimed to have an ‘aesthetic’ going on so he painted his left hand’s nails black. Brian just smiled at his friend’s diatribe and painted his left hand’s nails white. Delia offered to paint their right hands for them, but both refused and insisted that she painted her nails as well.

“I’m not even part of the band,” she protested. Freddie dismissed her with a gesture.

“Nonsense. We’ll get you on that stage one day, mark my words.”

In the end, she used a bottle of silver nail polish and painted the nails on her thumbs and ring fingers of _both_ of her hands, thank you very much.

“I get the thumbs, those will be seen when you flip someone the bird, but why your ring fingers as well?”

Focusing on her left thumb, Delia smiled at Freddie without looking up from her nail. “Oh, honey, because I would marry both of you in a heartbeat.”

“We'll need a timetable, and Mary might disagree,” Brian commented.

“No problem, I’ll marry her too. She might like me more than she likes Freddie.”

“Cordelia Hughes, _don’t you dare to seduce my girlfriend_.”

Delia stuck her tongue at a distressed looking Freddie while Brian laughed.

 

-x-

 

To be fair, Delia had to admit that Freddie hadn’t done it on purpose. Poor thing, he had only tried to be a good flatmate when he made tea for everybody after lunch. They all drank it even if it was a bit too warm for July, because Freddie was a mess in the kitchen and he had still made an effort. How the hell was he supposed to know that Roger had hidden some weed in the fancy jasmine tea Deaky’s parents had given them the week before?

So, Freddie hadn’t done it on purpose. It didn’t change the fact that they were high as a fucking kite when Sheffield phoned them to tell them that they hadn’t found a company that would release their album so Trident would do it instead.

“I’m fucking high. I’m high, right?” Freddie asked, looking around with glassy eyes and hoping for an answer after the phone call had ended. “You guys heard that too?”

They all looked at each other with confused and unbelieving expressions on their faces, quiet and paralyzed until Delia fell off the table when she tried to stand up and hug Freddie. It seemed to wake them up and they started screaming and bouncing around on faltering feet, bumping into each other with wild grins and violently hugging each other.

“I need to phone and tell Ronnie!” Deaky exclaimed as he helped Delia back on her feet. She couldn’t answer because suddenly Freddie hugged so hard that he lifted her off the floor, spinning around and laughing like maniacs until they hit the fridge. Behind them, Roger hugged Brian so enthusiastically that both fell to the floor between laughter. Freddie dropped her to hug Deaky, and that was when Delia heard some loud thuds from the flat on top of theirs. Mr Thompson was obviously disturbed by all the screams and noises. Freddie’s loud yell startled her.

“Fuck off, you snobby bitch!”

He threw the fruit bowl at the ceiling and hundreds of little pieces of crystal fell on them, making them laugh and scream louder as they ran away from the kitchen. Definitely not one of Freddie’s brightest ideas, but once again they were high and it wasn’t really his fault.

They released Queen on the 13th of July.

 

-x-

 

Delia got accepted into the National Theatre Company on the 14th of July. 

She wasn’t at the flat when artistic director Peter Hall himself phoned so Roger, who had been reviewing for an exam, was actually the first one to know about it. He immediately ran to the shop to tell her. 

“Why are you running? What happened?” she asked when she saw him panting, out of breath in front of a really confused old grandma.

“The… The theatre, they phoned… You’re in, Delly!” he managed to gasp. “You’re fucking in!”

Delia’s happy screech of excitement made the poor grandma leave the shop, but honestly she couldn’t feel guilty about it because she made it, _the fucking National Theatre Company had accepted her_. She laughed, launching herself at Roger’s arms and hugging the very breath out of him; he lifted her off the floor with a force that sent them both spinning around until they bumped into the piano. Delia wasn’t very sure of how it happened, but one moment she was laughing on the verge of tears with a smile so wide that her whole face hurt, and Roger was peppering kisses all over her face, and the next moment they were heatedly making out against the piano like two horny teenagers. 

Of course, that was when Freddie had to come back from the back room. 

“Stop molesting my piano, you two!” he mockingly protested. Delia and Roger broke the kiss and moved apart giggling like kids. “What’s going on? I didn’t know you were fucking.”

“Don’t be stupid, you know we aren’t. She got accepted into the company!” Roger exclaimed. Freddie let out a happy yelp and hurried to hug her as well.

 

-x- 

 

It changed things a bit. Delia actually got a rehearsal schedule that made it more difficult to help them record their new album during August but she still made things work, even if more often than not she fell asleep during the recording sessions. She rolled her eyes after finding out that the album was going to be named ‘Queen II’. Honestly, the nerve...

“Delia, are you there or are you sleeping on your feet?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure, sorry” Delia abruptly snapped out of her thoughts, blushing a bit when she felt all the rehearsal room’s eyes on her. One of the older actors grinned.

“Excuse her, Peter,” he told the director. “Somebody hasn’t learnt yet how to juggle acting and working.”

“Well, then she better takes a nap in between rehearsals.” Peter frowned, although he didn’t look that annoyed by the interruption. “Okay, from the beginning.”

Delia blushed even harder when the one to blame for her lack of naps shamelessly winked at her from th the idea of the room.

While being barely twenty years old, Samantha Kingston was already a force to be reckoned with. Delia didn’t consider herself submissive _at all_ and yet she couldn’t bring herself to protest when the younger girl dragged her into the dressing room or the toilets while the others had lunch. Delia wasn’t quite sure of how their little fling had started (there had been quite a lot of longing stares and brushing hands before anything actually happened) but damn if she wasn’t having fun with Samantha’s giggles against her throat while she fumbled under Delia’s costume for the play.

In between rehearsals of The Misanthrope (a comedy of manners written by Molière that pointed out the flaws in humans in general and French aristocratic society in particular. Delia’s character, Célimène, was delightfully playful and funny to play) and messing around with Samantha, a very sleep-deprived Delia managed to keep on working at the shop, going out with her friends and even meeting Brian’s new girlfriend. Her name was Chrissie and Delia immediately liked her, if only because Roger tried to flirt with her for the laugh of it and the girl all but dragged him.

“Poor you,” Delia mocked him, rising her voice over the pub's loud music. Roger messed her hair, looking at somebody on the other side of the place.

“See that girl? Curly dark hair, green dress? Twenty pounds that she goes home with me.”

Recognizing those curls quite easily, even with all the colourful lights and the smoke, Delia grinned. “Nice, I could use a bit of cash.”

That was how her friends met Samantha and Freddie laughed at Roger’s astonished expression for half an hour. Delia bought the cats a comfy bed with those twenty pounds, but those little shits still preferred to sleep on Deaky’s amp.

“I can’t believe you.”

Titania’s deadpanned expression rivalled with Deaky’s.

Her friends went to see her at the theatre in September before they started their first tour, for which they were terribly excited about. They had asked Delia to go with them but she couldn’t just ask for some free days or weeks when she had just joined the company, so the boys made it their mission to go to the theatre in support and to throw her flowers as often as possible. If the janitor on the back door had a small crush on Roger and allowed them to sneak inside without paying, nobody said anything. Well, except Freddie. Freddie was a bit outraged that somebody had a crush on Roger instead of him.

“Don’t worry, guys,” Delia said to all of them in the backstage. She wasn’t even out of her period clothing yet but Freddie had fiercely hugged her and showed no signs of letting go soon, so she couldn’t exactly hug the others. “I’m sure there will be more tours, I’ll join you at some point.”

Delia and the girls were there early in the morning when the bus left, the day after that performance. With his bandmates busy snogging their girlfriends goodbye, Roger stood there a bit awkwardly until Delia snorted and went to dip him, kissing him like a lady in the movies.

“Break a leg,” she told him right after while Freddie wolf-whistled. Roger grinned and pecked her on the cheek before getting on the bus.

 

-x-

 

And then, waiting. 

Delia busied herself with Samantha and theatre, improving her Célimène while starting to work in her Miranda for the next play that would be performed at the theatre, Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_. Both character’s personalities clashed terribly and by October, Miranda was winning. Her passive personality sank the actress into an aggressive mood, because Miranda’s innocence and vulnerability and easily manipulated nature were so unlike Delia that it stirred a very bitter feeling inside her.

 “I’ll go mad playing this character next year. She’s so fucking naive, I swear I can’t stand it,” she told her friends while they celebrated the cat’s birthdays. Mary was busy trying to put Tom on the phone so Freddie could talk to the cat and Chrissie was looking through one of Brian’s book about space, so the only one that actually answered was Veronica. She shrugged, reaching to pet Titania.

“I bet people nowadays love that kind of female character. Just go with it, pretend you are fooling them all.”

“Oh, honey, of course I’m fooling them.”

When Delia phoned her a few weeks later, Veronica answered as well.

“Can I sleep at your flat?” Delia asked, nervously biting her lower lip. It was a bit too late to be phoning anybody. Veronica wasn’t annoyed, however, because it was the 1st of November and she knew what that meant. Delia showed up at her flat half an hour later and both girls cuddled together, Veronica petting Delia’s hair until she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -My version of Veronica would 27397% start a bar fight to defend a friend, or any girl for that matter, from a creepy dude. We had already established that Ronnie has no chill.  
> -Roger is a really pretty girl, I cannot stop emphasizing this I am very sorry  
> -The photoshoot I talk about in the charter is actually the one from 1973 in which the boys were messing around with feathers and stuff.  
> -Freddie's and Brian's nails! I had to include that, period  
> -Apparently they once got accidentally high? How did those four dumbasses survive the 70s omg  
> -Freddie celebrated the cat's birthdays, right?  
> -Delia and Veronica are my brotp, fight me  
> -Delia and Brian got gfs!! I really want to write Chrissie, not gonna lie.


	7. 1974 (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got Chrissie's faceclaim! It would be Jodie Comer. I'm quite proud of this because they look even more alike than Veronica and her faceclaim Jenna Coleman, you can see for yourselves here:  
> (jodie): https://www.emmys.com/sites/default/files/styles/photo_gallery_large/public/photos-article/comer-2-448x600.jpg?itok=sGyHimOz  
> (chrissie): https://66.media.tumblr.com/f576b56d81a08994e0afdae26ecf6412/tumblr_pl058livrj1vol289_1280.jpg

The boys finished their first tour a few days before New Year, but it was already January by the time they were back to London. They got off one of the two recently arrived buses looking tired and slimmer than the last time Delia had seen them, but also incredibly happy. 

Delia smiled at them, standing on the bus station still with her theatre makeup as their first performance of the year had taken place that same afternoon. She was standing right next to Veronica, Mary and Chrissie so she hadn’t expected that the boys would pretty much ignore their girlfriends in favour of hugging Delia all at the same time, nearly tackling her.

“Guys, guys!” she screamed, trapped between Freddie and Roger. Poor Brian barely got to hug her shoulder before he wandered to kiss Chrissie, while Deaky at least managed to get a kiss on the cheek. Mary looked at the remaining three faking a tired expression that didn’t quite hide her smile.

“What am I, the bus driver?” she asked, amused when after a few seconds Freddie showed no signs of letting go of Delia. The singer laughed.

“No, darling, that’s Matt over there!” he said, finally releasing Delia after giving her a playful peck on the lips. Delia’s smile was so huge that her face almost hurt, but it went away when Roger startled her by grabbing her chin to shift her face, trying to get a look at her neck.

“Everything fine with Samantha, I see,” he giggled, lowering his voice. Delia brushed his hand aside and moved her hair so it would cover the hickeys on her neck.

“You are still annoyed because I won the twenty pounds and you didn’t get to fuck her.”

“What can I say? She looked very pretty in that dress.”

Delia’s answer died on her lips when she saw Freddie and Mary embracing in a really blatant PDA behind Roger. Smiling, she rolled her eyes.

 

-x- 

 

They went partying, of course they did.

(After the boys had slept for twelve hours straight, because Freddie could be a party animal but even he was completely exhausted after almost three months of touring, and the other three were in a pretty similar state.)

That time Delia got ready with Roger instead of Freddie, if anything because she managed to steal one of his shirts and in retaliation he made her do his makeup.

“You can’t really call this makeup, Rog, it’s only eyeliner.”

“Maybe, but I look prettier.”

That, he did. Roger had the nicest eyes Delia had ever seen, no arguing about that, so she was happy to make them pop more than usual thanks to the dark eyeliner. While she worked on Roger, Delia saw Brian’s reflection on the mirror. The guitarist seemed the tiniest bit curious about the whole thing, so she didn’t hesitate and pushed him into the chair once she was done with Roger.

“Stop moving,” she protested, trying not to mess up his eyeliner while Brian squirmed. “Everybody looks nice with eyeliner, you are no exception and besides, Chrissie will love it. Deaky, stop laughing, you are the next one!”

“Hell, no.” 

And, okay, Delia had no chill but she still couldn’t compete with one certain John Deacon, so he escaped the eyeliner.

“ _Deliadear_ , have you been using my leather trousers?” Freddie called from the other room.

“... Maybe,” she confessed. “I did the laundry a few days ago, they should be on the basket… Freddie, what the fuck happened to your legs?” Delia asked horrified when Freddie came out of his room without trousers. His tights were almost completely black with bruises. Freddie opened his mouth to explain himself but got interrupted by Brian before he had the chance.

“You should see him on stage, slapping himself with that tambourine,” he snorted. Freddie rolled his eyes and threw a discarded shirt at him.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black, Bri, you broke two nails playing the guitar! And Rog got blood all over his drums!”

“God, how are you guys even alive after three months?”

 

-x-

 

They managed to arrive on time at the pub, although Roger may had broken a few traffic laws in order to achieve that. He parked their new brand van (courtesy of Trident) outside the pub, and Delia helped them carry their instruments inside. She had been surprised earlier, when they told her about the gig.

“Aren’t you tired of playing after these months?” she had asked.

“Delly, the day we answer ‘yes’ to that, please fucking shoot us.”

Deaky rolled his eyes at Roger’s answer before Brian elaborated a bit. To sum up, the boys were supposed to play for a little while in exchange for free booze Delia guessed that it didn’t make sense to play for money if they were going to spend it at the pub anyway.

The boys were already on stage and playing by the time Veronica, Mary and Chrissie arrived. Delia found them fairly easily and joined them for a drink, not fully participating in their conversation as she was waiting for someone else to arrive. Finally, after three songs, those familiar curls appeared in the crowd. Delia smiled.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Samantha said as soon as she arrived, hugging Delia for a few seconds. “I forgot the bus’ route changes on weekends.”

“Don’t worry, they have barely started,” Delia assured her. “Okay, these are Veronica, Chrissie and that one coming over with drinks it’s Mary. Girls, this is Samantha. From theatre.”

Delia tried to avoid Veronica’s suspicious eyes and moved her arm from where it had rested around Samantha’s waist.

The boys knew of Delia’s… Preferences, had met Samantha a few times before the tour and Delia knew that they even liked her. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure about the girls. She was starting to believe that Veronica knew about it as well, if only because she fucking knew everything. Mary maybe had her suspicions but Delia was pretty sure that Chrissie had no idea. She liked Chrissie and, well, Brian was dating her so it was a pretty good indicator of the other girl’s character. But still, Delia was trying to be a bit more discrete around her, at least for a while.

Samantha’s arm around her waist and her hand going under Delia’s shirt after a few songs, however, was making quite difficult to keep that discretion. She squirmed away.

“Stop that!” she giggled. “Come on, not here.”

“But I have to leave soon, my parents are coming tomorrow.” Samantha pouted as she leant against her shoulder. Frowning, Delia started to play with the other girl’s hair while trying to come up with something. The flat was too far away to go and come back, and… After a quick glance, Delia confirmed that there was quite a long queue in front of the ladies’ toilet. Which, besides, wasn’t one of the nicest places to fuck.

“Here, take these.”

Delia blinked when suddenly the van’s keys dangled in front of her eyes. She looked at Veronica, who wasn’t even trying to hide her amusement.

“Just try to come back before the boys finish, otherwise they won’t let you live it down.”

Chrissie didn’t see anything because she was looking at the boys but Mary, who had turned around at some point, had seen the whole thing and was openly laughing.

“Come on, you look like a deer caught in headlights.” She smiled. “What are you waiting for?”

For Samantha to grab the keys from Veronica’s hand, apparently, because that was all it took for both girls to sneak outside the pub, barely dodging people and their drinks and laughing like schoolgirls. Thankfully, Roger had parked the van in a poorly illuminated place of the parking and it was so late that nobody was walking around, so they weren’t likely to be seen.

As she fumbled with the keys and tried to open the back doors, Delia absently wondered if Veronica and Deaky had used the van for that same purpose themselves. Those thoughts quickly disappeared when once inside the van and with the doors carefully closed, Samantha all but jumped on her and kissed her with a hunger that surprised Delia. She was quite taller than the other girl, but still found herself messily kissing her back and being pushed backwards until the back of her legs bumped into something. Tracing kisses that felt like bites all over Delia’s neck, Samantha made her sit down on which turned out to be a discarded amplifier that Deaky still hadn’t had time to fix.

As Samantha bluntly nudged her legs open, Delia realized that the boys were playing Liar in the distance and had to hold back a giggle. God, she would pay money to see Deaky’s face if he could see them making out on his amplifier. All coherent thoughts came to an abrupt end, however, when Samantha’s hand quickly found it’s way into Delia’s trousers.

_Listen, are you gonna listen?_

“Fuck,” Delia panted when it started to move. Samantha’s laugh was nearly angelical as she bent down to kiss her, all while her other hand went under Delia’s shirt and bra. Samantha’s fingers suddenly got rougher and Delia whined against her lips, louder when her other hand moved from Delia’s breasts to her ass, gripping it so hard that it pushed their bodies even closer. 

_I'm gonna kneel down by your side and pray_

_all day long_

_and pray_

_all day long_

_and pray_

_all day long_

_and pray_  

It definitely wasn’t one of her best -or longest, mind you- fucks ever, but it was too much. Samantha’s hand between her legs while the other held them together, sloppy kisses on her neck, the heat inside the van and the alcohol in her veins. And then Samantha started to move her hand to the rhythm of the song, and Delia was a goner. She came louder than it was sensible to given their circumstances.

Although if any of them were sensible then they wouldn’t be fucking in a van outside a pub, to be honest. 

Delia leant against the van, panting and trying to recover her breath.

“Fuck,” she said again. It felt like her brain had lost its ability to formulate a whole sentence. In the distance, she could hear the boys playing Modern Times Rock ‘N Roll. Samantha smiled and leant against her shoulder, her laugh blending with the music.

 

-x-

 

Samantha was long gone by the time the boys were finished with their gig. Freddie, always up for some teasing, pouted at the missed opportunity. Even Brian seemed a bit sad after not having had the opportunity to talk to her.

“I like her, she’s nice. Maybe a bit clingy, but…”

“Watch it, Bri.”

“I said I like her!” He raised his hands as if to defend himself. “And besides, Freddie is the clingiest person I’ve ever met and we still love him.”

The next band started to play and Roger immediately groaned. “Fuck, the guy at the drums is horrible,” he protested, making Chrissie laugh.

“Well, forgive the rest of us poor mortals for not being on your level.”

“He should beg for forgiveness, indeed.” 

Delia giggled. Roger and Chrissie’s friendship was eighty percent based on complaining, about the other or the rest of the world, it didn’t matter. It was both amusing and heartwarming to see.

“Don’t lose your pretty head over it, Rog,” Freddie ordered, carelessly putting his arms around Deaky’s and Veronica’s shoulders. “Come on, we should be already getting drunk.”

 

-x-

 

When Delia woke up, thanks to a very annoying beam of light that landed right on her face, she did it to a warm body next to her and an arm carelessly thrown over her waist. For a second she thought of Samantha, but then she remembered that the other girl had gone home early.

She wasn’t that surprised, honestly, to look to her right and see Roger sleeping on his stomach. Sighing, Delia rolled to her side and watched his sleeping face, trying to piece back the night before. Samantha had gone home, they had begun drinking and then… Then Delia had danced with Deaky, but he had quickly abandoned her in favour of making out with Veronica. They lost Freddie and Brian at some point after they started doing shots, and then Mary and Chrissie spent quite a while trying to go to the toilet so Delia and Roger were left alone. Delia frowned, trying to remember her conversation with her friend. He had been teasing her about the hickeys on her neck, called Samantha her girlfriend. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Delia had explained, much to Roger’s surprise.

“What?” he asked in disbelief, watching her down a shot before she answered.

“Yup,” she slurred, dragging the letters. “We’re messing around. Nobody’s said shit about exclusivity. And drink that, or I will.”

They had kept drinking, and once they had gotten their friends back and decided to go home they had walked together, arms thrown around each other because it had been so fucking cold. Deaky had taken the van and was supposed to drop Veronica at her flat and go back to theirs, but he never showed up again so they had had to walk. Mary had to drag Freddie back to her flat to stop him from going back to the club. After waiting for Brian and Chrissie to say goodbye to each other (took them ages, Delia remembered jumping on her feet to warm herself) Delia and Roger took their quite tipsy friend to the flat and unceremoniously dumped him on his bed. Delia had tried to go to sleep, but Roger wouldn’t let her leave without recovering the shirt he had lent her and playfully cornered her against her own bedroom door. 

Delia’s memories were quite blurry at that point, but she could remember taking off the shirt and throwing it at Roger’s face. Some teasing, then a blank space and then messy, uncoordinated making out against Delia’s door until she had dragged them both to her bed.

She snorted. Well.

Feeling a bit chilly, she snuggled under the blankets and gently nudged Roger with her foot until he woke up. He blinked, confused at first, but then he seemed to realize what had happened and that confusion on his face turned into something pretty similar to worry.

“Hey there,” Delia said, not really sure about how to start a conversation in those circumstances.

“Hey,” he answered. He sounded as unsure as Delia did. “... Everything alright?”

“If you are talking about… I told you last night. Although I don’t know if you remember it. Samantha and I haven’t ever talked about being exclusive.”

“I was rather thinking about not screwing this up.” Roger gestured at both of them. “I mean, I like it. Us. Being friends. Last night was great…”

“Oh, so you _do_ remember,” Delia teased him, smiling when he rolled his eyes. He moved his arm from where it had been still resting on Delia’s waist and leant on his elbow so their faces would be on the same level. The movement made some locks of golden hair fall in front of his eyes.

“What I mean,” he said, giving her a look that was both serious and insecure, and didn’t belong to his face at all. “is that I don’t want to lose the rest over a shag.”

Delia reached out to brush his hair off his eyes and smiled when Roger leant his face against the palm of her hand.

“I think we are mature enough to fuck and not screw our friendship over, or the group, for that matter.”

“I do hope so, Freddie would strangle me with his scarf otherwise.”

“Oh, he would never, he loves that scarf,” Delia played it down. “I’d be more scared of Deaky’s reaction.”

Roger cackled. “Fuck, he can be terrifying. And Bri?”

“Bri would think we are being stupid and horny, so, nothing new.”

“Talk for yourself.” Roger rolled on his back, which pulled the blankets along and uncovered Delia’s legs. “On top of that I’m also pretty.”

“You wish, Rog. You know I’m prettier.”

“Oi.”

He pouted, sneaking his hand under the covers to tickle her. Delia laughed and tried to squirm away but he was stronger, so there wasn’t much she could do apart from biting Roger on the shoulder to make him back off. The poor thing yelped and moved away, giving Delia the opportunity to straddle and pin him to the bed. And just like that, a few minutes later they found themselves fucking again. Weird as it sounded, Delia would have loved to take a pic of Roger in that exact moment. He looked terribly gorgeous with his hair sprawled on the pillow like a halo, the morning sunlight making his eyes shine, lips firmly pressed together to avoid any noise that would wake the others. Delia leant forward to kiss him, moving her hips in a way that made him whine against her lips. She smiled, suddenly assaulted by the suspicion that she could pry one of those infamous falsettos out of him.

(She was right. In retaliation, Roger sat up and licked and bit her throat hard enough to leave several marks.)

After a while they were both not so subtly trying to make the other come first, not unlike a race. At first Delia had been winning after another falsetto but then Roger suddenly grabbed both of her wrists, flipped them over and relentlessly fucked her into one of the best orgasms of her life. Delia wriggled her hands free and grabbed onto his shoulders for dear life, panting as he thrust harder than before. “You are a menace,” she protested before cradling his face, kissing him and silencing his groan when he came. Roger collapsed on top of her and left her breathless for a second until he managed to roll to his side instead. They didn’t talk for a few seconds, but then both turned to look at the other at the same time and they dissolved into giggles.

“If we’ve fucked," Roger said when he managed to stop laughing. "I guess nothing else I can do can make this more awkward…”

“Never say never, Rog.”

“... and I’ve been wanting to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Delia frowned, covering herself with the blanket out of cold rather than the shame of being naked in front of the guy she had just slept with. “What for?”

Roger didn’t speak for a little while, playing with her hair instead. “I behaved like a wanker the morning you told us you are into girls,” he finally said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, although he didn’t look amused in the slightest. “I can’t imagine what it feels like, being the way Freddie and you are and having to hide it every day. And then you got bullied into sharing it and I behaved like a bitch, and I’m really sorry about that Delly, I really am...” 

Delia kissed him to make him stop talking. “Rog, you didn’t bully me into anything, okay?” she fiercely stated one she pulled apart. “I would have told you guys at some point anyway. You were indeed a bit of a bitch about the whole thing, at the beginning, but I honestly think you were more confused than anything else.”

“... I was a bit hurt, actually. The group shares everything. Too much, at times, I think. But something so important to you… I mean, we all kinda knew about Freddie but we never suspected about you,” He frowned. “You hid it well enough. Guess you would, you are an actress after all. You never said anything and I while I understand that you have no obligation to tell anybody, I felt like you didn’t trust us.”

“Oh, Rog, of course I trust you. But... I mean, look at it from my perspective. I was on my own before I met you and I didn’t need to make my life more difficult by telling people who wouldn’t even believe that swinging both ways is a thing, so I guess I didn’t tell you guys either. Besides, if I want to move on from theatre and have a career in cinema, this is something people can’t know about.”

“People already suspect about Freddie, and he will have a career.”

Delia cuddled against Roger’s chest so he wouldn’t see the expression on her face

“Half of those people think it’s just an act and besides, he’s a man. Whatever you guys have to do to achieve your goals, women must do twice.” Her words sounded terribly bitter even to her own ears. “Think about it. I’m sure there are many good female musicians. Have you ever seen an all-girls group recording at Trident? Or a girl recording at Trident, at all?”

“I… I don’t think so.” Roger sounded unsure as he wrapped an arm around Delia. She hummed against his chest.

“There’s a girl, actually. Her name is Carly Simon.”

“The one who sings You’re So Vain?”

“That one. I saw her at the cafeteria a couple of times, but you probably haven’t seen her because Trident gave her the bad hours they gave you guys last year.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the wonder of being a man to you, Rog, and that’s why it doesn’t matter so much what Freddie prefers in bed. It would be a mess if people knew, of course, and it would be more difficult for a while, but you guys would succeed in the end. I wouldn’t. I would be in an industry run by men that would see me as gay and they would have two options. Either they realize that I’m not ‘fuckable’ and therefore not talented and marketable as an actress, or they would try their best to make me fuckable.”

Roger’s arm tightened around her. “Do you mean…?”

“Yes. I’ve heard that happening one too many times before. By their friends, by their boyfriends, husbands, you name it. Or maybe it wouldn’t happen, maybe they would just hide it and find me a fake husband that would feel entitled to me. Same ending.”

Delia had thought about all the different possibilities long ago, when she had decided what she wanted to do with her life. One would have to be blind not to realize that women had it more difficult to succeed in their career and that it was even harder for women with a secret like hers. She might tell trusted friends, discreetly mess around with girls like Samantha, but in the long run... Yeah, Delia was aware that some things just couldn't be. 

She felt Roger squirming against her body until he managed to cradle her face, forcing Delia to look into his eyes. He looked so sad and horrified that she wanted to hug him more than anything else, but she didn’t move. 

“What the fuck are you supposed to do, Delia?” he muttered, his fingers softly caressing her face. Delia shrugged.

“Hope that I fall in love with a man instead of a woman.”

“That’s so sad I can’t even begin to describe it.”

“Welcome to my life, Rog.”

Delia shrugged again and gave him a smile that showed that she had accepted her circumstances long ago, even if she hated them. Done with her rambling, she tried to get up and yelped when Roger pulled her back to bed.

"You are not getting out of here right after you just told me the saddest shit ever," he protested, rolling on top of her and holding her hands against the bed. "Come on, it's still early. Stay for a while."

Well. She had never been the one to reject a cuddle, even a forceful one coming from her pouting, hopeful-looking friend.

"You would be the one getting out of here, if anything. We're in my room," she reminded him. Roger rolled his eyes and leant to kiss her, deeply yet soft enough to show that he wasn't going after a third round, that he just  _cared_. Delia suddenly felt so loved that she could have cried, but she didn't. She allowed herself to be cared for instead, melting into Roger's warm body and exchanging caresses and lazy kisses until the world disappeared around them.

The next time she woke up, she did it to Brian’s shouting from the kitchen.

“What the fuck?” she muttered. Roger had at some point rolled away; he was still asleep next to her and showed no signs of waking up soon so Delia mournfully left him and the warm bed and got up to look for something to wear. Half of her wardrobe were clothes that had at some point belonged to one of the four boys, and so she put on Freddie's robe that might have come from his mother's own wardrobe. Delia then left the room as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb Roger. Brian had stopped shouting but when she walked into the kitchen Delia still saw him putting the phone back on its base quite violently. 

Unsure of her timing, Delia leant against the fridge. “Hi,” she said to announce her presence. Brian barely turned around to acknowledge her and sighed instead, nervously messing with his already messed-up bed head while he checked the kettle that was starting to boil.

Delia had always been better with actions rather than with words, so after a few silent seconds she went to hug Brian, wrapping her arms around his waist. “What’s wrong?” She asked, resting her cheek against his back and trying to be of some support. Soon enough, Brian’s hands covered hers on his middle.

“My dad,” he said after another sigh. “I… I messed up, it’s my fault, honestly.”

“Bri, you are working on your doctorate, touring with a rock band at the same time, and doing amazing at both things. What could you even mess up?” Delia asked.

“They phoned this morning, just to check up on me. After last night I’m still groggy but I tried to downplay it, so I just told them that Freddie and Deaky went to spend the night with their girlfriends and that Rog, you and me came back to the flat instead.”

“And so? I don’t think they can get mad at you just because you went partying for a night.”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what?”

“I told them that Rog, _you_ and me came back to the flat. I hadn’t told them that you live here, with us. My parents… My dad, mostly, he’s quite traditional with some things. He didn’t like that a woman’s living with us.” 

The kettle whistled. 

“Oh.”

Delia blinked, half-surprised, half… Hurt? She had never given a shit about what others thought about a girl living with four boys, but she guessed that their shitty neighbours’ opinions were completely different from Brian’s dad’s opinions. Even if she didn’t even know him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Brian quickly added, turning around to face her. Still a bit unsure about the whole thing, Delia shrugged.

“I know it isn’t, but... Well. I guess that not all parents are as cool with this situation as Freddie’s.” 

Freddie’s parents weren’t cool about it, but rather kinda grateful that their mess of son had four other people to look after him. Probably thinking the same, Brian snorted.

“Okay, enough of this. My dad will come around. Eventually,” he frowned. Delia’s answer was silenced by Roger’s inhuman yawn announcing his entrance.

“Morning,” he said, walking into the kitchen and sitting on a chair. He looked at Delia and winked, which Brian didn’t see as he was busy pouring the tea into three cups. Rolling her eyes, Delia blew a kiss at Roger.

“Your hair is a mess,” she teased. The drummer gave her a killer glance as he took his cup of tea from Brian’s hands.

“So, Fred and Deaky went with the girls and Roger got drunk,” Brian quickly summed up the previous night, passing Delia her cup. “What about you? Had a good night with Samantha?”

“What do you…?”

“You have to tell me how you manage to sneak her in and out,” Brian absently turned around and kept talking as he took a sip from his tea. “I wouldn’t even have known she was here last night if it wasn’t because…”

“Because what?” Delia asked, still trying to understand what Brian was talking about. She had most definitely not brought Samantha to the flat the night before. She looked at Roger for help, but he shrugged. Brian looked at her and blushed a bit.

“Well, because I heard her.”

“What do you… _Oh._ ”

Delia realized who Brian had heard at the same time as Roger, who choked on his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's why this is tagged as 'Friends With Benefits." I have never written smut or anything similar so this half-assed thing was the best I was able to come up with, please don't stone me.
> 
> I wasn't going to upload yet, but I realized that the chapters for 1974 would be too long if I added what comes next (their second tour, yay!) so the whole thing got split into three chapters.
> 
> As you can see Delia has thought quite a lot about her circumstances, maybe even become a bit too paranoid about them. It's implied that she doesn't see herself falling in love with Samantha for the long run so they are just 'messing around', although things might change (?) Hehe. And Roger is just a Good Bro™. He and Delia are quite alike in the sense that they worry a lot and like partying, getting pretty girls into their beds and making questionable decisions while drunk. Bless them, they were bound to fuck at one point or another.
> 
> Also, irl Brian's parents were upset because at that point Brian had been living with Chrissie while unmarried. Here the boys are all still sharing a flat because I love the flatmate trope and I will extend that for a few more chapters, so Brian's parents got upset about Delia instead. To finish with a little detail, it is true that Freddie hit himself with that tambourine so hard that his legs were black with bruises, that was a copy-pasted quote. So dumb, I love it.


	8. 1974 (II)

“Okay, I have a question. How did you even manage not to kill each other during the first tour? This bus is tiny.”

“You haven’t seen it after Roger brings three girls into it.”

Roger threw his shoe at Brian, but he dodged it and the shoe hit the front window of the bus, making their bus driver yelp.  “Sorry, mate!”

Half sprawled on top of Freddie, Delia giggled and held her hair up for a second. It was too long and that March was getting warmer than usual, but she still didn’t want to cut it. Maybe because Freddie had taken a liking to making little braids with it and said she looked cute. Just maybe.

The boys had finally managed to talk her into joining their tour, even if only for a while. Luckily, their return from Australia had synchronized with Delia’s two weeks of rest (perks of the theatre being closed while the stage got renovated). If she had followed Roger’s advice and called in sick for a week more, well, that was for the two of them to know.

So far, she loved it. Yeah, the little bus was crowded with roadies and equipment more often than not, helping to assemble and disassemble the stages and lights was a pain in the ass, it was too hot and there was no hint of privacy. Delia had already lost count of how many times she had seen a bit too much of Freddie, but that might have been because of those leotards he liked to wear, so tight that seemed painted on his skin.

But on the other hand, their tiny and overpopulated bus felt like an extension of their flat (minus the cats, who were being cared for by Mary). It was loud music, clothing and makeup everywhere, lyrics written on the most unexpected surfaces and aggressive, impromptu cuddle piles on the floor because the seats were too narrow for the five of them even if they were comfy enough to be used as beds.

With Delia joining the tour, it became obvious during the first night that they were a bit short in terms of sleeping space. Freddie was the smallest among the boys, but he also moved a lot and kicked in his sleep so because of that (and in favour of their recently upgraded relationship) Delia bunked with Roger. The only thing they could do was cuddling, however, because there was no privacy for anything else, but Roger was an amazing cuddler so Delia really couldn’t complain about their sleeping arrangements.

 

-x-

 

Delia didn’t quite realize that things were getting bigger until the band had to keep the crowd waiting at Plymouth Guildhall on the 3rd of March. It wasn’t their fault, honestly, somebody had messed up the soundboard and it took them a bit too long to fix it.

“I’m going to kill somebody,” Roger announced. Next to him and sitting on a table, Freddie was bouncing his leg so fast that it almost became a blur.

“You won’t fucking do any of that, dear. Deaks?” Freddie gave their bassist and resident engineer a begging pout. “Can’t you do anything to help them?”

“Already tried, got told they would fix it on their own.”

“Wankers.”

It was a pretty horrible way to start the tour, in Delia’s opinion. She batted Brian’s hand away from his mouth when he started to bite his nails again.

“Stop that, you are going to make yourself bleed.”

“Easy for you to say that,” Brian frowned at her but Delia didn’t quite pay attention, because she could swear she had heard... “You don’t have to go there in front of a couple hundred drunk people…”

“Bri, Bri, shut up for a sec. Guys, am I the only one that hears that?” she asked them, wide-eyed. They all tried to listen but Freddie was the first one to realize what it was, and his mouth fell open.

“Is that…?”

_God Save the Queen_

_God save our gracious Queen!_

_Long live our noble Queen_

_God save the Queen!_

“Fuck,” Roger whispered. Although still nervous for them, Delia smiled a bit.

“Well, I guess they don’t mind the waiting…”

“It’s been fixed!” one of Plymouth Guildhall’s techs shouted at them. “Queen, out there you go, now!”

Delia quickly pushed them outside before anything else could go wrong and then staggered at the wave of relief that rushed over her. She sat on the same table Freddie had been sitting on just a few seconds before and closed her eyes, smiling at the familiar melody of Procession.

 

-x-

 

Ian Hunter, Ariel Bender, Morgan Fisher, Peter Watts and Dale Griffin, also known as Mott The Hoople, were five nice human disasters who had met the boys back in their first tour. Both groups had immediately hit it off since the beginning, and Delia had the strong feeling that it was due to their chaotic personalities.

Of course, it couldn’t hurt that they let the boys hang out at their bigger bus and raid their stock of cold beers fairly often. Delia, however, pretty much preferred when Fisher showed off his motorbike.

“It's a Kawasaki triple, H2 Mach IV 750,” he recited as if he was saying his first born's name. Next to Delia, crouching down so he could get a closer look, Roger let out a long whistle.

“Aren’t these the ones they call widowmakers?”

“Same one.”

“Oi, Taylor, don’t encourage him!” Watts shouted, smiling when Fisher flipped him off not a second later. He chuckled and went back to read some lyrics Freddie had just messily written down on what looked like a battered poster of Queen. Behind the singer, Delia could see Brian’s stern face.

“If he tries to get himself a motorbike, I’m moving out,” she heard him declare. Smiling, she looked away from where both bands were hanging together and back to the motorbike. She had never been interested in cars and the like, but a the same time Delia couldn’t deny that she wondered how it would be to feel the speed, the wind against her chest.

“How is it to ride it?” she asked. Fisher raised an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me you’ve never ridden a motorbike?”

“Nop.”

“Bloody hell, girl, we need to fix that. Wait a second.”

Before Delia could fully realize what was going on, Fisher was already helping her to put on a helmet and her friends were freaking out. Except for Roger, Roger was just jealous.

“Why does she get to be the first one to ride it?” he protested. Focused on getting Delia’s hair out of her face under the helmet, Fisher snorted.

“Have you ever ridden a motorbike?”

“Yeah, a couple of times…”

“Then let the girl try it.”

Deaky looked lowkey jealous as well. Freddie’s eyes, however, were full of panic.

“She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die and Veronica and Mary and my mom will take turns to kill me.”

“Are you sure of this, Delly?” Brian asked, getting himself a hard slap on the back not even a second after.

“Chill, guys,” Hunter laughed. “Morgan knows what he’s doing, he’ll get your girlfriend back safe and sound.”

“ _Sh_ _e’s not our girlfriend,_ ” the four of them said that at the same time.

Delia pouted at them. “Well, love you too, guys. Okay,” she watched Fisher sitting on the bike and felt a bit lost. “How do I…”

“Leg over the seat, feet there, be careful not to burn yourself with the exhaust pipe…”

“That can happen? Great,” Delia sighed, straddling the seat and carefully putting her feet where Fisher had instructed. “I love this already.”

She couldn’t see Fisher face, but he could hear him and he did sound fairly amused by the whole situation. The motorbike suddenly roared alive and Delia yelped, grabbing onto Fisher for dear life. She felt rather than heard his laugh and she knew that her face was probably as red as a tomato. Yup, definitely amused.

There was little space for any shame, however, once Fisher sped up until Delia really had to tighten her arms around his waist. After a few seconds they were on the road and it was only them, them and the breakneck speed and the wind whistling so loudly in her ears that Delia almost couldn’t hear the roar of the engine. The adrenaline rush overwhelmed her so quickly that it left her feeling high, and that was probably what had her giggling like a maniac and letting go of Fisher's waist. Smiling, Delia closed her eyes and spread her arms so she could feel the wind.

In the end, Delia got a couple of bugs crushed against her jacket and an earful from Freddie and Brian, who weren’t happy at all about her imprudence. But Fisher offered to take her for a ride anytime she wanted (“No innuendos there”, he assured), Deaky had taken a really cool pic of her with her arms spread open, and Roger’s jealousy over the motorbike somehow translated into angry snogging in the backside of Mott The Hoople’s bus, so Delia really couldn’t complain.

 

-x-

 

Their routine was unexpectedly easy to adapt to. Arriving to cities after lunch, helping to set the stage, lights and equipment while making sure that the boys had everything they needed to be on the stage on time, partying after the good gigs, arguing and partying harder after the bad ones (there were broken strings, malfunctioning equipment, sore throats, incidents that just couldn’t be avoided), drunkenly dragging themselves back to the bus and complaining about each other’s hangovers the morning after while they travelled to the next city.

In the middle of the mayhem, however, they somehow found time to actually realize what was going on, to live the small moments. Roger made a point of buying every single music magazine he could find in cities and gas stops and Deaky would help him look for any mention of the band. The day they found the first one, Delia had been with Freddie and Mott The Hoople at their bus but still heard their excited yelling.

Having taken unofficial ownership of the band’s camera, Brian divided his free time into taking pics of everything and everybody (that apparently included a hangovered Roger flipping him off while he ate his breakfast), keeping them awake by reciting his Physics notes while he was supposed to be sleeping and stopping the whole caravan whenever he saw a hurt animal on the road. Although, honestly, what kind of heartless person wouldn't have stopped?

That was probably how they ended with a couple of hedgehogs in a box, hidden under a seat. They were tiny and nobody knew how Brian had been able to spot them from the bus, but they all helped to hide them and he patiently took care of them, feeding them milk with the help of a sock (generously donated by Deaky) until they were big enough to be released again. Freddie ceremoniously baptised them as Jer and Ruth, and Delia took a few pics before Brian released them behind a bush at a safe distance from the road.

(She also had secretly taken a pic of a sleeping Brian, sprawled on the bus’ seats and with his head on Freddie’s lap, the two little hedgehogs snuggled together on his chest. The others agreed that it was painfully cute and Freddie demanded a copy for himself. As for Brian, he didn’t know about it but Delia was pretty sure that the pic and a cool frame for it would be a nice gift for his birthday).

 

-x-

 

The one thing Delia couldn’t get used to was the crowd hysteria.

It started out of nowhere on the 16th of March at the Stirling University, when the audience refused to let the boys go even after three encores. After having worked as a pub waitress for more than three years Delia knew that drunk college students and bottles were the worst of combinations, and quickly realized that things were a shove away from getting nasty.

She actually saw how it happened. A girl next to the stage tried to climb over a guy so she could grab what looked like one of Roger’s broken and discarded drumsticks, the guy pushed her away, the girl’s boyfriend punched the guy, the guy’s friends got involved and all hell broke loose. Well, at least that gave the boys the chance to leave the stage. At the backstage Delia was pretty safe from any flying objects, but when she saw Deaky struggling with the bass and the amp she didn’t doubt to go out there to help him.

“Delia, what the fuck!” Roger yelled. “Get back there!”

Delia flipped him off, ducked to avoid a flying bottle and grabbed the amp all in the same movement. Brawls and even small proportioned riots weren’t exactly a novelty for a former waitress or a rock band so in the end they got away and on the bus pretty easily. To their surprise, the driver started the bus and drove away as soon as Delia managed to get the heavy amp on the bus.

“Fuck it,” Delia mumbled, leaving the amp on the bus’ stairs. If Deaky hadn’t complained about it, she definitely wasn’t going to do it.

The bus’ movement made it a bit difficult for her to go upstairs, even more when she found Freddie on the way. Delia dragged him along and basically pushed him on the first empty seat she saw. The only other ‘empty’ seat was occupied by the Red Special and Delia rolled her eyes. “Leave it,” she said when she saw Brian leaning to take the guitar. She simply dropped on Roger’s lap and sighed in satisfaction when he hugged her closer. “You stink.”

“Try drumming for a couple of hours. Besides, you have no notion of personal space but you won’t hear me complain about it.”

“Sure, because you love it.” 

Roger’s mature answer was to lick her cheek. Delia groaned and cleaned it against his shoulder. She didn’t need to look at Brian to know that he was rolling his eyes.

“You two are like children,” he said. Fondness was pretty obvious in his voice, however. “Everybody alright? That got a bit out of hand.”

“Only a bit, dear?” Freddie raised an eyebrow, perched on his armrest almost like a cat so he was a close as possible to their driver. “Matt, what about the roadies? And the other band?”

Their driver shrugged. “We got the other band out of there as soon as things started getting nasty, and some of the roadies left with them. The others will do the same once things calm down a bit and they can pick everything up. It won’t hurt them to travel in the equipment van until they catch up with us,” he explained, frowning when the bus went over a pothole and everything vibrated for a second. “Honestly, it was bad luck that you guys got stuck there.”

He didn’t seem that worried and Delia had the feeling that the middle-aged, soft-looking man had seen a lot of shit while on the road. 

“Hunter and the other guys will probably feel bad about it,” Deaky mumbled. “It was very nice of them to give us the closing act.”

 

-x-

 

The other band did feel bad indeed, bad enough to pay for their first round of drinks when they stopped at Glasgow that same night so they could wait for the equipment van.

“Look at the bright side, they liked you guys so much that they didn’t want you to leave.”

“Fisher, they got in the middle of a riot,” Hunter stated.  His bandmate shrugged.

“Sure, but people liked them. Rock n’ roll and all that.”

Trident’s promoter had phoned the small motel they had stopped at to tell them about the aftermath (two people had been stabbed and two of their roadies were sent to the hospital) and also to order them to be ready to leave once the equipment van caught up with them. Stirling was pretty close to Glasgow, but it was late and dark and the van’s driver had been supposed to follow their bus, so it was no surprise when after a while nobody had appeared.

Tired and a bit done after the disaster of a day, Matt and the other band’s driver had gotten on the bigger bus and declared their intention to nap for a while.

“Please, make sure that nobody dies of alcohol poisoning,” Matt had told Deaky when he saw everybody starting do drink, heading off to sleep right after.

Delia's snort had been epic. “Does he know that you hide alcohol behind your amp during the gigs?”

“I don’t believe he does.”

The motel was almost empty so the owner was pretty happy to have two rock bands raiding his stock of alcohol, as long as they paid. He even let them stay in the tables outside so they wouldn’t have to keep it quiet in order to avoid disturbing other clients. Once the man left, Brian was quick to snatch the money from Freddie’s hand.

“You are going to get drunk and lose it,” the guitarist reasoned. Freddie pouted but had to give in, because it was a known fact that it was almost impossible for him not to lose anything after a night of drinking. 

Everybody was a bit low-spirited after learning about the injured public and roadies, but the flowing alcohol quickly took care of it and soon enough both bands were playing stupid drinking games. Roger also sneaked into the bus to grab a few of their records and the portable record player so they could listen to their own music, and Delia had to admit that doing five shots in a row during Deaky’s solo in Liar as an overwhelming experience.

Not that she was going to say it out loud in front of Freddie. “Your turn,” she told him, pushing the glass and the bottle in his direction. Freddie drank straight from the bottle and gave her a defiant look, unaware of the worried expression on the other band’s drummer’s face.

“They are going to get sick,” Delia heard him telling Brian.

“Oh, don’t worry, they always try to outdrink each other. It doesn’t end too badly, at least for Delia.”

“Oi, Bri!” Freddie pouted at the affront, and Brian shrugged.

“You both hold your alcohol pretty well but you have to admit that Delia does it a bit more elegantly. And she has never lost her trousers so far...”

“My girlfriend can outdrink them both,” Deaky slurred, interrupting the guitarist with a sad frown. “I miss her.”

“Oh, you poor dear!” Freddie quickly wrapped himself around Deaky to give him a rib-crushing hug. Delia smiled at the sight, even more when she realized that the other band wasn’t being weird about two guys cuddling and basically sitting on each other’s laps.

“Man, I miss my kids,” Hunter sighed after a few seconds. His bandmates all groaned and complained at the same time, but their fond smiles gave them away.

“Aaand there he goes again…”

“Show them the pics, man, you know you want to.”

That was how two drunk rock bands found themselves cooing at several battered pics of two small kids. Funnily enough, that made everybody realize that Brian was drunker than he looked, because once Hunter handed him the pics he started slurring nonsense about how cute the kids were, and he basically let himself fall against Delia’s shoulders once he had to give the pics to Freddie.

“They are too cute,” he insisted in the same cooing voice he had unawarely used with the hedgehogs he had found on the road. Delia smiled and kissed the top of his head, petting his curls for a few minutes before she tried to stand up.

“Need to go to the toilet,” she mumbled, pushing Brian against Hunter so he wouldn’t just faceplant on the floor. The world blurred around her for a second before somebody grabbed her.

“Yup, let’s get you some water.”

“Shut up, Roger, you are drunker than me.”

In all fairness, they did go into the motel to drink water and sober up a bit. If after drinking and a few minutes of friendly bickering they both shared the same naughty glance, if Roger almost tripped over his own feet when Delia dragged them both to the nearest toilet, well, they couldn’t exactly be blamed.

They were a bit too loud when they stumbled inside, the earlier drinks making them giggle like silly as they bit into each other’s lips, fumbling with the clothes that stood in their way. Neither of them could really get Delia out of her tight trousers but it wasn’t really a problem once Roger’s hand managed to sneak into them.

His smile was pure mischief and Delia closed her eyes at the feeling of his fingers, throwing her head back against the wall and gasping when suddenly Roger’s mouth was on her neck, peppering kisses and little bites alike. Delia yanked at his hair to keep him there and he moaned against her skin, moving his hand faster and viciously biting that point under her jaw that turned her into a squirming, whining mess until the orgasm ran through her like an electric shock. Roger laughed and silenced her moans, kissing her rough and dirty until she stopped trembling in his arms.

“You alright there?” he asked after a few seconds. Still panting a bit, Delia nodded and he stepped back with a petulant smile. “Cool. Come on, we should…”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He yelped, obviously not having expected Delia’s sudden movement when she swapped their positions and pinned him against the wall. It was her turn to smile at Roger’s face when her hand went inside his trousers.

 

-x-

 

“Hurry the fuck up, you wankers, we are waiting for you!”

Freddie’s pretended anger would have been more believable if he hadn’t been so obviously dying of laughter when Delia and Roger had to run to the bus.

They had been… Busy enough that they had apparently missed the equipment van arriving at the motel and their drunk friends struggling to get on the bus, which translated into the most public, drunken walk of shame ever. Delia heard a wolf-whistle coming from the other band’s bus and flipped them off without even looking in their direction before getting on the bus herself.

Their driver looked quite amused by the whole thing. “I hope you guys paid,” he said, starting the bus and following the other band’s bus.

“I did,” Brian slurred, face down on his seat. “Someone had to. Delia, careful with the guitar case. It’s next to Rog’s seat.”

“Why do you even want a whole equipment van if you are going to carry your guitar around like it’s your own baby?” Delia complained. Still quite tipsy, she managed to jump over the case and unceremoniously let herself fall on the seat just a second before somebody turned the lights off.

“It is my own baby. I made it with my dad.”

“Mate, you might want to reword that.”

“Fuck off, Rog.”

Roger giggled and then Delia felt him pulling at her boots until he managed to take them off, promptly dropping on the seat and curling around her. “I’m so fucking tired…” he whined against her neck. “Please, nobody wake me up until we get to Cleethorpes.”

Delia moved so he could rest his head more comfortably against her chest and started running her fingers through his hair, watching Freddie’s silhouette struggling to make his way through the seats and various limbs that were falling off them. He leant to kiss Deaky’s forehead and to put one of Brian’s long legs back on the seat, each of the movements so careful and full of affection that Delia couldn’t help but smile at them.

“Please, _please_ , somebody make the bus stop spinning…” Deaky begged after a few minutes of silence, once Freddie had dropped on his own seat.  Roger groaned and moved against Delia.

“Put your foot on the floor, Deaks, that’ll help.”

“I swear to God, if somebody gets sick I’m going to throw them off the bus.”

“Love you too, Bri.”

“Nobody is getting thrown off the bus, guys,” their driver reminded them from his seat, prompting several giggles. Delia smiled and closed her eyes, trying to ignore how uncomfortable she would be sleeping without having changed her clothes.

“Delia?” Roger whispered after a few minutes. She managed to make some kind of sound. “Are you awake?”

“Barely.”

“Why... Why don’t you sleep with any of the others?”

Leave it to Roger Taylor to talk about fucking her friends while everybody else was falling asleep.

Delia shrugged. “We never got in that mood, I guess.” She said, deciding to tease him a bit. “Why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Sleep with any of the others.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“... That’s a good question.”

Delia blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that answer. Suddenly awake, she squirmed until she was able to face him. “Please, tell me you are not going to have a sexuality crisis while you have your face on my boobs.”

“Hell, no, I’m too sober for that,” Roger laughed, kissing her cheek while one of his bandmates made a guttural sound and threw something that looked like a sock in their general direction.

The sounds from the road and the lights from the occasional car were soothing enough that Roger fell asleep a few minutes after their little conversation was over. Delia herself was starting to doze off… At least before she heard a whisper.

“Delia? Deelia… Delly!”

“Del, for fuck’s sake, make him shut up.” Brian’s tired groan was far louder than Freddie’s whisper and it made Delia chuckle.

“Del? That’s a new one.”

“Come.”

“What?”

“Get in here, darling!” Freddie insisted. “I need to tell you something.”

Delia struggled to get to Freddie. She was barefoot, had no idea of where Roger had dropped her boots and under no circumstances she would touch the floor after everybody had been stepping on it with muddy shoes on a daily basis. In the end, she had to go from seat to seat. Deaky was already asleep and snoring while Brian, obviously tired of their shenanigans, all but grabbed her and threw her on Freddie’s seat.

“Ouch! Bri!”

“Good night. And keep it quiet.”

“Moody poodle…”

Delia tried to lie down on Freddie’s seat but he refused and fussed until she was as undressed as him, taking off both blouse and trousers.

“Nobody sleeps fully dressed in my bed, darling, that’s a rule.”

“This isn’t a bed.”

“Doesn’t matter. Put this on.”

In the darkness, Delia put on what could be a merchandising t-shirt from Mott The Hoople and finally managed to lie down next to Freddie, who immediately wrapped himself around her. “Took you long enough,” he protested in a whisper. “By the way, you really need to stop using our poor drummer as a pillow or you’ll give him false hopes beyond fucking.”

“Believe it or not, we actually talked about it as grown adults. Nobody is getting false hopes. Besides, he’s cuddly.”

“I’m cuddlier.”

“Of course you are,” Delia smiled and yawned. “Now, what did you want to tell me?”

“I… Well. Would you want to meet someone?”

Freddie sounded horribly insecure, which confused Delia. “Uh… Sure?” she said, although it was a question rather than a proper answer.

“He’s… He’s important to me.”

“Important, as in…”

“Yeah.”

Delia sighed and closed her eyes. “Fuck..." she muttered. "Why me instead of any of the others?”

“Of you four, I think you and Roger are the ones who actually understand that loving and being in love with people are two wildly different things. And I don’t think Roger is ready to get hit by all my gay shit.”

“You are wrong there, Freddie,” Delia struggled to turn around so she could face him. With his dark eyes and sharp features, he was unbearably beautiful under the dim lighting from the road. He also looked terribly young and insecure and Delia wanted to rip that insecurity out of him more than anything else in the world. “He loves you, we all love you. If this guy…”

“David.”

“Okay, if David is important to you, then he’s important to us. If that ‘gay shit’ as you call it is important to you, then it’s important to us. Period.”

“I just don’t want to rush anything, dear. Sometimes I still don’t believe that they are okay with me being… Me.” Freddie flinched at his own words and it broke Delia’s heart. She threw an arm over his waist and snuggled closer, trying to be of some support. Freddie’s arm around her back brought her even closer. “Besides, they love Mary. It would be too much of a strain.”

“Well, I also love Mary but she isn’t the one suffering in your relationship. She’s fine with it, while one would have to be blind not to see that you ache for something else,” Delia reasoned. Freddie didn’t answer for a few seconds and she sighed. “Look, love, I don’t mean to tell you how to live your life because nobody has the right to do that, and this is going to sound really ugly, but… As long as nobody is suffering, I’d go for it.”

“It does sound ugly.”

“I know, I was the one to say it.” Delia’s heart was beating so hard that she wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was able to hear it. She bit her lower lip before pushing for the final conclusion that was still to come. “And?”

After several seconds of horrifying silence that made her stomach turn, of wondering if she had gone too far, talked too much, Freddie breathed in deeply.

“... And that’s what I’m already doing anyway.”

Delia closed her eyes in relief and tilted her face to kiss him on the shoulder. “I love you,” she muttered. “And don’t worry, you’ll get through this. You always do.”

 

-x-

 

After the riot at the university (which had, in all fairness, been a proof of how much people liked them) Trident’s promoter Mel Bush was adamant about Queen being big enough to sell out the Rainbow, a theatre in Finsbury Park at London. He managed to convince the boys and while Freddie immediately got into character, encouraging everybody in his own lovely yet aggressive ways, Delia could see that the boys still weren’t completely sure about it.

It didn’t help that journalists had taken a liking to sharpening their pencils on the band with comments that ranged from _‘laughably bizarre mish-mash of every other more successful band of their genre'_ to _'limited and unoriginal'_. Delia couldn’t deny that she had been worried about the boys's reaction to those articles, even if she was of the opinion that those journalists could go fuck themselves. Maybe critics didn’t like Queen. Who even cared, to each their own.

But there was no fucking way to deny that the public  _loved_ Queen, and everybody wanted Rainbow to be the proof of that. It felt like the whole tour had been just a warm-up for the night of the 31st of March. The theatre’s supervisors were adamant that everything was perfect and they didn’t trust the tour’s roadies for absolutely anything. That, they all could understand.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want some of those guys near my equipment either, they can get really rough,” Deaky said.

“Yeah. But darling, you must admit that trying to tell Rog and Bri how to tune their instruments was a suicide.”

“You guys could have warned them.”

Both Deaky and Freddie shrugged at Delia’s words, more interested in the earful Roger was giving some poor guy than in anything else. Bri, although quiet, was holding his Red Special and shooting killer glances at everybody who even breathed in his direction. Delia rolled her eyes at her friends and wandered off, trying to make herself useful.

The only one who needed and accepted any help was Zandra Rhodes, their designer. She hadn’t travelled with the boys during the first tour but since then Freddie had gotten really involved with their ‘black and white aesthetic’ (Delia wasn’t sure it could be considered an aesthetic if only Freddie and Brian followed it on a daily basis) and so the singer had insisted that her presence was necessary.

Zandra was older than all of them and therefore had kind of taken them under her wing, barely giving a fuck about Freddie’s protests. She was ruthless, keeping them alive during afterparties and helping to make the gigs go as smoothly as possible. Besides, she was a really talented designer. Her ability to keep Freddie mostly dressed on the stage was unmatched and she had a really good eye for colours, demonstrated by her bright pink hair

That night, however, what she had was very little patience.

“Delia, honey, can you give these to the boys?” she asked, dumping several pieces of clothing on Delia’s arms. “And make sure they don’t tear them again. Threaten them with bodily harm for all I care, but I won’t be seaming that for the fourth time.”

“Sure. But… I think you made a mistake.” Delia frowned, holding up three white, flowy tops. “There are three of these.”

Zandra smiled as she sat down and started working again on one of Freddie’s leotards, a shiny black thing that surely would be inhumanly tight.

“Oh, no. You see, Brian is so tall that I had to buy more fabric. I had some of it left so I thought it would look gorgeous on you. A small gift. Us girls have to stick together.”

“Zandra, I’m really thankful but honestly, you didn’t have to…”

“Yes, I had.”

The fierceness in the designer’s voice was erased by the soft wink she gave Delia. Still smiling like a little girl, Delia left the roadies’ room and made her way through the backstage and to the boys’ dressing room. “Are you decent?” she asked after knocking on the door.

“As if you ever gave a fuck, darling!”

Delia snorted. “It’s called common courtesy, Freddie,” she told him as she entered, leaving the clothes on top of a chair. “What are you even doing?”

Freddie was sitting on a table, in his underwear and eating cornflakes. He shrugged. “My clothes stink after being on the bus the whole morning, and I don’t want to get the stage clothes all dirty. You should do the same.”

“Are you saying I smell bad?”

“I meant the eating part, you look hungry.”

That, Delia couldn’t deny. And she did smell a bit, if she was honest, so after a few seconds she shrugged and stripped while Freddie poured a bowl of cornflakes for her.

“Where did you found these?” she asked him, hopping onto the table.

“I may have stolen them from the other bus,” Freddie admitted without looking particularly guilty about it.

They calmly ate their cornflakes, facing each other and talking a bit about anything and everything for a while. Freddie was trying to convince her to dye her hair purple or some other unnatural colour when they heard the argument out on the hallway getting closer with each passing second. The door suddenly opened so hard that it hit the wall behind it, but neither Brian or Roger seemed to notice as they were too involved in their argument.

“What the fuck are you two arguing about!?” Delia exclaimed when after a few seconds their friends showed no signs of even having seen them. Both guitarist and drummer fell instantly quiet and the three of them stared at each other, both boys in disbelief and Delia with a raised eyebrow. Next to her, Freddie calmly munched on a spoonful of cornflakes.

After the small, awkward moment of explaining what they had been doing on the table ( _“Eating cornflakes on a table and in our underwear, Bri. Honestly, darling, Roger is supposed to be the blind one.”_ ) Delia managed to get them all dressed and she and Freddie took care of their makeup in a record time. However, he fussed about the wing of his eyeliner not being as sharp as he would have wanted until the very second before they went out on the stage.

“Bloody peacock,” Delia muttered, smiling nevertheless when she heard the crowd’s roar at the band. She wasn’t sure of what she was supposed to do then so she just sat down on a discarded amp and decided to hang around just in case extra hands were needed.

The show went on pretty smoothly, except for the bit while there was a power cut. But even then the band managed to salvage the situation, thanks to a combination of Roger’s amazing drumming solos and Freddie’s ability to charm the public no matter what he was doing. “We’ll just pose and you just look at us!” he suggested at some point, prompting cheers from the crowd and a smile from Delia. Yeah, she could definitely see that working.

_On such a breathless night as this_

_Upon my brow the lightest kiss_

_I walked alone..._

Delia sang Brian’s lyrics along Freddie and the whole damn theatre and it felt otherworldly, and even more when the song transitioned into Son and Daughter. She was so lost in the music that she barely saw Freddie leaving the stage right until he was in front of her.

“What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Shut up and help me, dear, he does like his solos but we don’t have much time!”

While Freddie all but dragged her back to the dressing room, Delia swore she was going to kill him. Getting Freddie out of the batwing top and the white trousers was hard enough. Getting him into the lowest cut top and tightest trousers Delia had ever seen was a complete nightmare.

“Come on, love, the solo is going to end and they’ll kill me if I’m not out there…!”

“ _I_ am going to fucking kill you, you peacock bitch, fucking warn me beforehand next time!”

Delia wasn’t sure of how she managed to do it, but in the end she pushed Freddie back on the stage right when the guitar solo ended and gave Brian a thumbs up before collapsing back on the amp. She saw Brian’s white top flowing when he turned around to watch Freddie, whose black outfit didn’t keep him from standing out even in the darkly illuminated stage.

_White and black._

Delia groaned. “Aesthetic bitch...”

 

-x-

 

The show was a complete success so the after party was looking to be even better. A bit tired of all the dressing and undressing, Delia just got out of her clothes and stole one of Brian’s blouses. It was loose and big enough to be used as a dress and seemed like a sensible option for a night partying at some hot, crowded place. She was still a bit annoyed at Freddie after his impromptu costume change in the middle of the damn show, but allowed him to fuss over her makeup and to braid her hair to his liking.

Delia didn’t use the heeled boots he wanted, however, even though the four boys were wearing heels that night and it would make her look unusually short in comparison. It paid off in the long run, when Roger didn’t see the step right after the pub’s door and the heels made him trip and fall on his face. Delia bought him a beer to compensate for how much she laughed.

It didn’t take them long to become tipsy and soon enough Freddie and Deaky where in the middle of the place, dancing under the lights like nobody was watching. Delia saw a couple of their newer roadies staring at Deaky in disbelief and giggled. People took Freddie being outrageous as a given, but nobody believed how much Deaky loved to let go and go full disco on them.

Freddie didn’t mind disco and Delia liked it at times, depending on her mood, but Brian and Roger weren’t really fans of it. After a while Roger downed his beer and wandered off, either to the toilet or in search of some pretty girl, one could never be sure. Delia shook her head in amusement and looked back to her friends. It was a bit weird to see Deaky dancing without Veronica next to him, Delia realized, and it put a sad smile on her face.

“What happens?” Brian asked.

“Nothing. I just miss the girls.”

“Well, you’ll see them sooner than us.”

He was right. After Rainbow, the boys were following Mott The Hoople to Birmingham and then to North America until June. After almost a month Delia couldn’t just leave the theatre for three more, so she would be staying in London after that night and would indeed see the girls sooner than the band.

“Told you guys had to invite them to the show, that it couldn’t get that much out of hand.” Delia shrugged. She downed her drink and was about to join Freddie and Deaky to dance for a while when Brian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Del?” he looked a bit insecure when Delia turned around to face him. “Can I get obnoxiously intrusive for ten minutes without you getting mad about it?”

“Bri, I love Freddie and I doubt you can be more obnoxiously intrusive than him.” Delia rolled her eyes in amusement and leant back against the bar. “Go for it, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, actually, it’s just that… How old is Samantha?”

The question surprised Delia, who raised an eyebrow. “Sam? She’ll be twenty-one in June. Why?”

“Well, I’ve been reading a bit about it, you know, since you and Freddie officially told us that you are…”

“Gay as fuck?” she suggested, making Brian snort at her choice of words.

“Yeah, gay as fuck.”

“Only you would try to read about that, Bri.” Delia wasn’t able to hide her fondness. “You might actually be the one to find the term that actually works for Freddie and me, instead of gay.”

“Believe me, I know you aren’t gay per se, Roger and you aren’t exactly subtle.” Brian frowned for a second. “Do you actually realize that your room and our room share a wall, right?”

Delia hadn’t been in Brian’s and Roger’s bedroom that much, taking into account that she was messing around with Roger, but she blushed after realizing that the headboard of her bed was against that same wall Brian was talking about. “... Fuck, I’m really sorry.”

Brian actually laughed, which eased the awkwardness but only a bit. “Anyways,” he eventually said, still obviously amused about Delia’s embarrassment. “Not that I actually read a lot, it was awfully difficult to find any unbiased texts. But I did learn that the age of consent is actually higher for you. Samantha is still a minor, you could get in trouble for it.”

“Oh, Bri…” Delia shook her head at the whole thing and felt the familiar, resigned smile on her own face. “I’m sure you’ve read everything you could find about the decriminalisation. Tell me what the Sexual Offences Act of 1967 was about.”

“Well, overall it legalised homosexual acts in private between two men…” Brian’s eyes widened when he realized. “Oh.”

“See? The _male_ homosexual age of consent is twenty-one. I’m pretty sure that nobody’s ever talked about the age of consent for gay women. Many people don’t even believe it’s possible for two women to be together, you know?” Delia’s chuckle sounded bitter even to her own ears. “So, I’m really thankful for your concerns, Bri, but I think I’m pretty safe. At least from the law.”

Delia shuddered, suddenly really tired of the same old story. After the decriminalisation things wouldn’t surely change for a couple of decades, and that was something she couldn’t fight against. She took Brian’s hand in hers instead. “Come on, enough of the straight’s bullshit. Come dance with me.” She tried to go inside the dancing crowd but wasn’t able to once Brian gently pulled her back, bringing her close enough that Delia could see the sadness in his eyes. “Bri?”

“How do you stand it?”

“Sorry?”

She had been mistaken, Delia realized when she heard him speak. Brian wasn’t sad, he was angry.

“Reading all those things… It made me physically sick, the way they talk about people like you,” he almost spat out the words. “Who the fuck gave them the right to decide over people’s private lives? I… I can’t imagine what it feels like to live knowing that society hates you.”

The rage she could hear in his words made Delia feel all warm inside. God, what had she ever done to deserve her friends?

“Some people actually have a problem with being gay, you know?” she tried to explain. “They don’t accept that part of themselves, for whatever reason. But... I mean, I don’t have a family or a faith that would make it harder. It’s just me. And it turns out that if you remove society or my career from the equation, I don’t have a problem with liking girls. Knowing that _I_ don’t actually hate myself for it makes it easier to ignore what other people say. Do I… Do I make any sense?” Delia asked, frowning. “I’m a bit tipsy.”

“You and Freddie must be some of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” Brian suddenly blurted out. His bluntness made Delia laugh.

“If anything we are two stubborn bitches that don’t give a fuck about society, but thanks, Bri.”

She had never done it before fearing that Brian, who wasn’t as touchy as Freddie or Roger, could feel awkward about it. But after all he had told her Delia really couldn’t stop herself from standing on her toes and giving him a short, sweet peck on the lips. “You are the best,” she said once she pulled apart.

Smiling, she turned around and started to walk into the crowd until she realized Brian wasn’t following. Delia turned around and smiled when she saw him standing there with a really funny expression on his face. She reached out her hand.

“Hey, you coming?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: guys, I see you reading. You obviously don't have to but I'd love some reviews, just to know what you think of the direction this whole story is taking ;)
> 
> God, this got soo long I had to end it before sending the band off to North America. Those scenes will go to the next chapter, which I guess will get longer than I intended. Ugh. Anyway, here you have Them Facts™, just in case somebody doesn't know about them and/or they may help to get the backstory of the chapter:
> 
> -The whole thing about the crowd singing 'God Save The Queen' at Plymouth Guildhall and the riot at the Stirling University actually happened irl.
> 
> -Queen did tour around with Mott The Hoople as their support band in 1974. The professional relationship then turned into a really endearing friendship between the two bands, who would collaborate a few times during the following years. Morgan Fisher played with the keyboard during Queen's tour in 1982, although I completely came up with the motorbike stuff.
> 
> -I based Delia's touring experience on my dad's when he was young, because there's only so much I can research I'm in med school and I. Just. Don't have the time. The whole thing about the hedgehogs is also made up but I dare you to tell me that it isn't in character for Brian May to stop two buses and a van just to pick up some baby animals.
> 
> -Don't take the following as 100% true facts because this part of Freddie's life, especially in the 70s, was a whole damn mess and as far as I know nobody has ever given a reliable telling of the facts. Taking this into account, we do know that David [Minns] was one of Freddie's first boyfriends and pretty much his first important, kinda serious relationship with a man. Yup, while still dating Mary. The band's relationships with their significant others were a mess. Still, for the fic's purposes it makes sense that Freddie would want to talk about it with a close, preferably not straight friend. And there comes Delia, who knows the struggle of manoeuvring your way through same-sex relationships while mostly everybody else assumes you are straight. Don't even ask me how anybody ever assumed Freddie was straight, tho.
> 
> Here I feel I must say that irl I obviously don't support cheating, but tbh this is a fic of a movie of a rock band in the 70s and 80s. As much as we love them, the boys definitely weren't saints and Delia isn't either. Her views on cheating and relationships are a bit unconventional and will only become more distorted in the future. She states it in this chapter; as long as nobody suffers (aka as long as nobody knows about the cheating) she will support her friends on pretty much anything.
> 
> -I must confess that my version of Rainbow is a mash-up of the two times Queen played there in 1974, but whatever. Freddie and Roger did have to mess around for a bit to entertain the crowd while the power was cut, though.
> 
> -Zandra Rhodes was the designer that came up with those infamous batwing white tops that I absolutely love. Let's just suppose she was there at Rainbow.
> 
> -I think it's true that Brian and Roger had been arguing before they found Freddie just as described, undressed and eating cornflakes. The scene had to be hilarious. He also did change costumes during Brian's guitar solo. I've read and wrote about a single change, from the white batwing top outfit to the black one, but watching the videos of the show I think he actually changed twice. First he changed the white batwing top for a white, kinda Victorian looking shirt-thingy, and then once again to the black outfit. I stan one fashionable bitch.
> 
> -Again, tell me it wouldn't be in character for Brian May to actually read about the legal aspects of their friends' sexuality, just in case. Everything I said in this chapter regarding the laws on male homosexuality is true, although the female aspect felt a bit more dubious and I don't know how the law was actually applied back then. Still, the law itself talks about the legalisation of male homosexual... Just what Brian said. I think nobody actually talked about women. Huh, I wonder why.
> 
> -To finish this rant, I feel like I'm writing less about Deaky than the others (sorry, in my mind he's Deaky rather than John idk why). This doesn't mean I have something against him or whatever, it's just that he was after all the quiet one and I still can't completely grasp the characterisation. However, he will become more important later in Delia's life so no worries, Deaky won't be disappearing any time soon.


	9. 1974 (III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to upload so soon but, who even cares, there it goes. Disclaimer, I don't know when I will upload again. I have a pretty precise idea of how I want things to go and what I want to tell, but writing it takes time and some times the plot does its own thing and I find myself writing an unplanned scene, so pls bear with me. That being said, there are a couple of 'deleted scenes' that didn't make it into the fic because they weren't that relevant and this would get even longer, so I may post one of those before I post next chapter.
> 
> So... Yeah, I think that's all. Enjoy!

For all Titania was a bossy little bitch, it seemed to Delia that the cat had actually missed her because she was there meowing and demanding attention as soon as Delia stepped into Mary’s flat that morning.

“I don’t know why everybody hates you cat,” Mary told her as they made their way to the kitchen, where she had something boiling in a pot. Delia sat on a chair and watched Mary stir the pot before she got distracted by Titania. The cat jumped on her knees and rubbed herself against Delia, all while purring like a little engine.

“She’s the one that hates us,” Delia complained. “This cat is a menace. She once destroyed Roger’s biology notes and I had to rewrite the whole damn Krebs cycle for him. I hope she wasn’t much trouble...”

“Oh, no! Don’t worry, it was a pleasure. Hey, I’m going to meet with Veronica and Chrissie in a while. Why don’t you come along?” Mary asked over her shoulder as she added something to the pot. “You could tell us about the tour. I can’t imagine sharing a flat with those four, ant to think of sharing _a bus_ …”

“I’d love to,” Delia assured. “But, huh, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to stay awake for another hour, to be honest.”

“But… Oh, yes, the party,” Mary muttered to herself. She turned around and leant against the kitchen counter as if to get a proper look of Delia, who pulled a face. She was still wearing Brian’s blouse as a dress, hadn’t had time to properly wash the makeup off her face and at five in the morning a really drunk Freddie had decided it was a good idea to braid her hair. All in all, Delia knew she looked like a proper mess. And probably stank of alcohol. The view couldn’t be that shocking to Mary, however, taking into account Freddie’s usual appearance after a night of  partying. “You poor thing… Did they drag you along, or was it the other way around?”

“Oh, Mary, you should know the answer by now.”

Mary smiled when Delia winked at her and turned around to watch the pot. Delia was hit by the feeling that her friend wanted to say something else a second before Mary spoke again, although that time she sounded cautious. “You don’t look like you made it home last night.”

“That might be because I didn’t make it home,” Delia chuckled. She saw Mary giving her a sideways glance and sighed, leaving Titania on the floor. “What do you want to ask, Mary? I don’t bite.”

“Is it the girl I met? You know, at the boys’ gig after they came back from the first tour.” Mary turned around again and frowned for a second. “I think her name was Samantha?”

“That same one.”

Titania headbutted her legs for attention and Delia absently petted her head, watching Mary’s thoughtful frown. It looked like she wasn’t sure how to ask.

“Are we… Going to see her around?”

“Are you asking me if it’s serious?” Delia asked, smiling when Mary quickly nodded. “Geez, I hope so, because last night she asked me to be her girlfriend.”

That had gone more along the way of _”I know you are messing around with the drummer and please, stop it, I want you for myself_ ” but Delia decided to tell that version to the boys rather than to Mary. “Is it a problem?” she asked when the other girl didn’t answer after a few seconds.

Delia had always been closer to the band than to their girlfriends. She really liked those girls (and would straight up die or kill for Veronica, no questions asked), but her chaotic lifestyle as a theatre actress was more akin to the band’s rather than to the ones of a teacher in training, a shop assistant or a tailor, so they just didn’t meet that often. Delia didn’t know them as well as she knew the boys, but because she did know the boys she was sure that their girlfriends couldn’t be the kind of people that would shun her because of her sexuality. Hell, Veronica pretty much knew about the whole thing and she didn’t seem to give a fuck about it.

That logical reasoning, however, wasn’t enough to make Delia stop fidgeting with her fingers while she waited until Mary decided to speak again.

“I… No, not really,” Mary said in the end. Her expression, still a little bit confused, reminded Delia of Roger’s when she had first come out. “It’s just that I had never had a lesbian friend, you know?”

Delia snorted. “That you know.” The straights always thought that they didn’t know any of those queers. They never even considered the possibility that their child or their friend or their bloody boss could be one of those people whose existence, whose rights could and were hotly debated.

“... That’s true.”

“Besides, I’m not a lesbian.” To Hell with it, Delia might as well let it all out. “I swing both ways, darling.”

Mary’s grin was unexpected and completely threw Delia off. “God, for a second you sounded just like Freddie with that _darling_ ,” she said before turning around to watch the bubbling pot again. Delia was incredibly thankful for the opportunity to compose herself and keep a straight face before Mary could look back and realize how accurate her own words had been. Because _that_ was definitely one conversation she wouldn't be having with Freddie’s girlfriend while Freddie himself was currently flying to North America, to David.

Delia went back to Samantha’s flat shortly after that, with a cat on her shoulder and a promise to meet the other girls for tea. Mary would later phone her and try to coordinate their schedules, although Delia wasn’t very hopeful and knew it would be some time before the four girls could all meet at the same time. At the same time, she really looked forward to it. She had truly missed them during the tour.

The flat was still dark and quiet when Delia arrived. She closed the main door as gently as possible and Titania promptly jumped to the floor, wandering around to investigate the unknown surroundings while Delia tiptoed her way into Samantha’s bedroom. She smiled when she found the other girl still asleep and curled around a fistful of sheets.

_“Delia?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Are you still… Seeing Roger?”_

_“... Yeah, from time to time.”_

_“This is going to sound selfish, but I don’t want you to sleep with him. As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to sleep with anybody else.”_

_“Are you talking about being exclusive?”_

_“I’d like that.”_

_“... Me too, Sam.”_

The night before had been a bit of a mess. They hadn’t even been supposed to meet, but the boys had already left and Delia found herself alone and tipsy and horny, so she all but crashed at Samantha’s, and Sam hadn’t mind that much judged by how she had jumped on Delia and dragged to the bed for the sleepiest, laziest, hottest shag ever.

Delia had been still gasping for air when the conversation had taken place and after it was over, her lust had been replaced by a cute, warm feeling that made her curl around Samantha and fall asleep with a stupid smile.

Probably the same stupid smile Delia could feel on her face during those moments, she realized as she dropped all her clothes. She carefully lied down next to Samantha to avoid waking her up, and knew she had failed when two sleepy arms possessively wrapped around her.

“Where were you?”

“I had to pick something up. Are you allergic to cats?”

Samantha muttered something against her neck before falling asleep again. Smiling, Delia closed her eyes and snuggled closer.

 

-x-

 

Learning her character for their next play, taking care of the shop, meeting with the girls and being with Samantha had Delia busy enough that she felt the rest of April fly away in a heartbeat. Time slipped away too fast; one second she was drinking tea with Chrissie and telling her stupid anecdotes about Brian and the next one she was rehearsing and winking at Samantha, and then arguing with some old lady at the shop because she wanted to get a necklace for way less than it was worth.

All in all, by the middle of May Delia had had a couple of really tiring weeks and it definitely wasn’t the first time she fell asleep on the couch before she could even think of going to bed. It was, however, the first time that the phone woke her up. Titania had at some point crawled under her arm and she hissed when Delia got up, promptly snuggling against a cushion. Delia smiled at the sight and staggered her way to the phone, still half asleep.

“Yeah?” she asked when she took the call, unable to say anything else.

_“Delia, can you hear me?”_

“Hm?” What the hell…? Delia sighed when she recognized the voice and looked at the clock. “Sure. Freddie, it’s… It’s four in the morning, what the hell…”

 _“Love, listen...”_ Freddie was speaking fast, and quite loudly to be heard over the horrible noise in the background. _“Shut up for one bloody second, you two!”_ he yelled, making Delia wince and pull the phone away from her ear. _“Love, you still there?”_

“Yes. Can you please fucking tell me what’s going on?”

_“Listen, I need you to go to the London-Heathrow airport right now. Brian’s flying back home...”_

“That Brian is… Wait, what?”

 _“... and he’ll arrive in an hour,”_ Freddie kept talking through her interruption. _“He’s sick, Delly.”_

The world froze around Delia, who suddenly felt more awake and alert than any other moment during the previous weeks.

“What happened?” her voice was small and weak when she managed to speak after a few seconds. “Is it serious?”

Serious enough that he couldn’t be treated in the States, that he had to be flown back...? In Delia’s suddenly screaming mind, that meant that he would need to stay hospitalized for quite a long time, but what…?

_“Doctors here believe it may be hepatitis.”_

“Hepatitis? But how would Brian…?”

 _“We don’t fucking know, darling, okay!?”_ Freddie all but shouted in the phone. Delia heard him breathing in deeply a couple of times. _“Sorry.”_

“Don’t be. What do you want me to do?”

_“A taxi will pick you up in twenty minutes to take you to the airport. Go with him to the hospital and keep us informed about everything, we need to wrap things up here but we’ll be there tomorrow after lunch...”_

“Wouldn’t somebody from Trident keep you informed?” Delia frowned. “I mean, of course I’ll be there but…”

_“We are going to cancel almost twenty gigs, Delly. Trident isn’t that happy about Brian right now.”_

“Bloodsucking assholes! Fuck!” Delia kicked the table in her rage and muffled a pained scream against her hand when something cracked. She tried to move the toes of her right foot and the wave of pain made her shudder. Bloody great.

_“Delly?”_

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Delia lied between her teeth and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to calm down.

_“Good. Also, phone Chrissie once you get to the hospital. Maybe the two of you will manage to convince him to phone his parents.”_

“You mean that…? Oh, fuck’s sake, it’s Brian who we are talking about, of course he didn’t tell them.”

 

-x-

 

Even though it was really early in the morning, the traffic around the airport was messy enough that it took Delia almost a full hour before the taxi was able to park. She all but jumped from the vehicle while it was still moving and ran into the building without giving the poor taxi driver a look; apparently he had been paid by Trident or Queen, or the bloody Queen herself, Delia didn’t care. She just kept walking and ignored the pain on her right foot.

Another man, that one wearing a uniform with the airport badge on it, was waiting for her at the entrance.

“Cordelia Hughes, I assume?” he asked, looking at her from head to toe for a second. Delia nodded. She had basically put on the first clothes she had seen lying around, which turned out to be a Queen I tour hoodie, her own jeans and Roger’s old converse sneakers. The man’s gaze lingered for a second on the hoodie and he promptly made a gesture for her to follow him.

He took Delia through the personnel corridors and then outside again, to the landing track where a small plane was still slowing down and an ambulance was already waiting. She stood there in the chilly wind anxiously biting her lower lips as she saw the plane stopping completely, the way poor Brian stumbled on his way down the plane stairs. He looked weak, and disoriented and in pain, and it broke her heart. Delia unrelentingly pushed her way through airport personnel and a couple of nurses and arrived to the stairs right in time to catch him when he faltered and almost fell down.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…” Delia desperately tried to hide the panic in her voice when she felt Brian’s unsteady body against her, how slim he had gotten since she had last seen him a month and a half earlier. Sure, the boys had come back slimmer after their first tour, but not that much… “Bri? Bri, how are you feeling?”

Delia noticed he was too warm once she cradled his face in her hands to make him look at her. The way his eyes didn’t seem to focus on anything made her shudder.

“Like shit,” Brian muttered, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes. “Am I yellow?”

“What?”

“The boys said I was yellow…”

“It may be contagious, miss,” a woman said behind Delia. “You need to step back…”

“Yeah, not bloody going to happen,” Delia replied, carefully manoeuvring her way around Brian until she was able to wrap an arm around his waist and his own arm around her shoulders. In moments like that one, she was incredibly grateful for her height. “Where will he be taken?”

The woman who had spoken, a nurse, as her uniform told Delia, pulled a face when it became obvious that she wasn’t moving away from Brian.

“To the Royal London Hospital. Unless you are a relative, you will have to take a taxi to...”

“Fine, let’s go.”

Delia started to walk towards the ambulance basically carrying Brian and wincing every time she felt him stumble, every time she heard a little pained whimper escaping his lips. There was nothing else she could do so she tried to hurry to be over with it as soon as possible. And couldn't someone move the ambulance closer!?

“Miss, I’ve already told you that…!”

“You told me something about relatives, and I’m his girlfriend,” Delia calmly lied. “So good luck kicking me out of that bloody ambulance!”

Unsurprisingly, the nurse stepped back.

After arriving to the hospital Delia realized she didn’t know Chrissie’s number, so she had to phone Mary instead. Not even half an hour after Brian was taken into a room (and Delia bluntly told to wait outside) Chrissie was already at the hospital; Delia saw her coming down the hallway in what looked like old jeans and the upper part of her pyjamas. She barely had time to stand up before Chrissie hugged her so hard that something cracked.

“Come on, sit down…”

“What happened?” Chrissie asked. Delia’s heart broke a bit when she saw the tears in her eyes. “Mary didn’t tell me…”

“I don’t know that much myself, to be honest. Freddie phoned me in the middle of the night. Doctors told them that it may be hepatitis but…”

“Hepatitis? Brian?” Chrissie frowned and shook her head. “That can’t be true. They must be wrong.”

Delia shrugged. She seriously doubted Brian had cheated on Chrissie to the point of contracting hepatitis, and while he might have tried drugs at some point (he was in a touring rock band, for God’s sake, drugs were almost part of the experience) once again Delia didn’t believe that in the span of a month he had gotten that much into them. In the end, both girls just decided to wait until the doctors could tell them something.

A representative of Trident arrived at some point during the morning. After Freddie’s words Delia felt quite wary of him, so when he asked if there was anything he could do she quickly sent him for coffee so she could explain the situation to Chrissie.

“Bastards,” the other girl said. “He’s right there, in pain, and they only think about their damn money…!”

“Hush, honey…” Delia quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure that the representative hadn’t returned. “You are the girlfriend and I’m just the friend. If they feel like we can predispose Brian of the band against them… It’s not going to end nicely”

“Well, I don’t know Freddie that much but I’d say that if they try to move as much as a finger against Brian, he’s going to fuck them up,” Chrissie snapped. “And rightfully so.”

Delia couldn’t say she disagreed with that, but she still stood by her words. If Brian was sick enough that Trident could try to make Queen get another guitarist… Things could get pretty ugly really quick.

 

-x-

 

Once the nurses and doctors learnt that Brian’s girlfriend was actually Chrissie, Delia wasn’t allowed into his room. Chrissie couldn’t sneak her inside either because apparently everybody was adamant in keeping them away from Brian. They weren’t even told about his diagnosis, if there was even one. All they knew, thanks to Chrissie, was that he was bright yellow and babbling nonsense due to his fever.

They spent most of the morning in the same chairs and debating the pros and cons of phoning his parents. Freddie had told Delia that Brian didn’t want to tell them and both girls knew that he wasn’t on the best terms with them, with his father. However, anytime Delia looked at that closed door, she knew that she wouldn’t forgive herself if something happened and Brian’s parents weren’t there.

It all came to an end, however, when both girls realized that the other didn’t know the Mays’ phone number.

“Why would I know it?”

“Well, you are his girlfriend!”

“And you are his flatmate!”

Apparently Freddie was a much better flatmate than Delia, because as soon as the band arrived at the hospital after lunch he quickly wrote down the Mays’ phone number on Brian’s file. “Just in case,” he muttered before turning around to hug Delia so hard that her feet left the floor. She couldn’t hold back a yelp when Freddie dropped her and all her weight was supported by her right foot for a second.

“Delly?”

“I… I might have broken something in my foot?” Delia told her friends, although it sounded more like a question. “I quicked a table when Freddie phoned me.”

If Brian’s state hadn’t been much more worrying than her (maybe) broken toes, Delia was sure that her friends would have given her a pretty loud lecture. Well, Freddie would have. Deaky and Chrissie looked willing to throw her out of the window.

“I knew I had seen you limping!” Chrissie exclaimed. “We are literally at a hospital, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to leave you alone with… Rog!” Delia yelped when suddenly the drummer scooped her up in his arms.

“You guys take care of Bri,” he said. “I’m taking this idiot to the nurse, we’ll be back soon.”

In the end, Delia did have something broken. Two toes, to be exact.

“I meant it, you are an idiot,” Roger insisted. He would have seemed more affronted if he hadn’t been playing with Delia’s hair as the nurse bandaged her foot. “And Brian will tell you the same.”

“Probably, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Delia bit her lower lip and waited before the nurse walked away for a couple of minutes. “Rog?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m with Sam.”

“I know.”

“Like… Actually being with he… With Sam,” Delia quickly corrected herself before the nurse could overhear her. Sam could be a guy’s name, after all. “Serious relationship, being exclusive, all that stuff.”

“Oh.”

A bit nervous, Delia turned around to see her face. Roger didn’t look mad or sad, not that he really had any right to because he and Delia had never been or talked about doing anything else than mess around. But even then, she really didn’t want to hurt him.

“Is it…?”

“Okay?” Roger shrugged. “I guess. You don’t need my permission. Not gonna lie, I’m going to miss the sex, but… Yeah, I’m happy for you. Don’t overthink that cute head of yours, huh? I still plan on keeping you around.” He leant to give her an obnoxiously loud and wet kiss on the cheek that made Delia giggle and squirm away.

 

-x-

 

After a few hours doctors told the band (not Chrissie, or Delia) that it was indeed hepatitis. Deaky suddenly remembered Brian complaining about his discomfort after they all had been vaccinated before going to Australia earlier in the tour, before Delia had joined them during March, and the doctors said that the illness could have been caused by a contaminated needle. The whole band plus the girls were vaccinated, just in case, and Brian would have to stay at the hospital for a while. Hepatitis could get serious but it was also treatable so they all relaxed and went on with their lives while keeping Brian accompanied in turns so he was never alone.

More often than not Delia had to take the night turns because she was still rehearsing and acting at the theatre, broken toes or not. She told the band she was only rehearsing, however, because they would tie her down to a bed if they knew she wasn’t resting like the nurse had told her to do. Delia didn’t think that much rest was necessary. She could walk, after all, and it didn’t hurt that much, so she quickly settled into her new routine of sleeping on the battered couch of Brian’s room, then rehearsing in the morning, having lunch with Samantha, acting in the evenings and going back to the hospital.

At least until one night Roger appeared outside the theatre, leaning against his old Alfa Romeo and waiting for her. Samantha saw him a second before Delia did, and frowned.

“Is that…?”

“Rog? What are you doing here?” Delia asked him. The serious expression on his face frightened her. “Did something happen?”

“Get in the car, I’ll tell you along the way.” He opened the passenger door for her and waved at Samantha before going to sit behind the wheel. “Hi there, Sam.”

“Hi,” the girl said back without much enthusiasm before looking back at Delia. “You’re leaving with him?”

Delia sighed and walked back to her. Right then she really didn’t have time for Samantha’s misplaced jealousy, no matter how cute it was. “Brian’s at the hospital, remember?” she told her. In a fit of boldness, Delia looked around them to make sure nobody could see them and leant to give her a peck on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsals.”

Samantha didn’t look that convinced, but nodded and walked away after kissing Delia’s cheek. Delia shook her head and got into the car as quickly as possible. “How did you even know I was performing?”

“The other day you forgot to clean off the stage makeup,” Roger shrugged, starting the car and driving away from the theatre faster than it was sensible to.

“Oh. Well, tell me, what happened?”

 

-x-

 

Gangrene. First hepatitis, and then gangrene.

“The doctors said they need to amputate his arm,” Freddie told her in a whisper. Roger had taken Deaky for a coffee and Chrissie wouldn’t be there until the next morning, so it was only the two of them standing in the quiet room. Delia looked at poor Brian. Pale slim, humming and moving around in his uneasy sleep. Her heart clenched. “If somebody had noticed earlier, if we…”

“We aren’t doctors, Freddie. There’s… There’s only so much we can do.”

“I don’t understand it. He was getting better… Hell, yesterday he was playing the guitar, and now…! And now, there he is,” Freddie bitterly said. “High as fuck and fucking singing She Makes Me in his sleep. He’s at the fucking hospital and still focused on the band, that asshole.”

Delia grimaced and sat on the end of the hospital bed as carefully as she could. Brian was humming rather than singing, some slow and soothing melody that Delia couldn’t really listen to because Brian’s arm commanded her whole attention. She knew nothing about medicine but… It didn’t look good. It didn’t look good at all, it looked _dead_ , and Delia shuddered when she tried to imagine what it would look like once it was gone.

“He doesn’t want to amputate.”

“What?” Delia turned around so quickly that something cracked in her neck.

Freddie looked horribly tired, dark shadows under his eyes, a stubble that should have been shaved two days before and his hair half up in a messy bun to keep it out of his face. And yet, the burning anger in his eyes was unmistakable. “He doesn’t fucking want to amputate,” he repeated. “We told him it is necessary, that he shouldn’t care about Queen and the damn guitar, but he wouldn’t listen to us.”

“Freddie…” Delia had to blink several times to keep the tears at bay. “Freddie, people die of gangrene.”

“You go and tell him, darling.” 

She did, several times. Brian never quite listened; sometimes he was high on painkillers and others he just refused to meet their eyes no matter what she said, no matter if Freddie cried or Roger flung a plastic chair out of the window in a fit of rage, no matter Deaky’s sharp and ugly truths. Nothing would make him really react.

To Delia, the whole situation felt a lot like Brian preparing for inevitability, for death. And she panicked.

 

-x- 

 

Nobody really knew who had phoned his parents. A crying Ruth May said something about a nurse, about a male nurse, and therefore the only male nurse treating Brian was promptly fired for a breach of patient confidentiality. Brian was still mainly conscious and able to speak for himself so that nurse hadn’t had the right to notify anybody without his consent, not even his parents.  

Delia didn’t feel particularly guilty for having the idea. The glance she shared with Deaky, who was sitting on the other side of Brian’s bed, told her that he didn’t feel guilty for participating either.

“Are you going to tell him?” Freddie asked one night, while the three of them were curled up together on the couch. He had finally shaved a while ago and Delia ran a hand along his soft cheek, smiling when he leant into the touch. Neither she or Deaky were surprised that Freddie knew. He always knew.

“Are we?” they answered at the same time.

“That wasn't fair,” Roger whispered one morning, when everybody else was still asleep and he was running his hands through Delia's hair. She looked up and saw that his blue eyes were full of unshed tears. “He doesn't want his parents here, he doesn't want them to see him dying...”

“He's not going to die.”

“He still doesn't want to amputate.”

“Then if... If he dies, at least we tried to do something”. Delia snuggled closer to his chest and blinked to keep the tears at bay. “You can tell him if the guilt is too much, I don't care. I prefer him alive and mad at me rather than dead.” 

Roger hugged her closer. Nobody told Brian.

Brian still wouldn’t hear about amputations of any type. He did agree, however, to a debridement of the gangrened tissue. It was less risky in terms of affecting his future performance as a guitarist and the doctors decided to give it a go, warning everybody that it was the last chance before having to amputate. Delia, Chrissie, Freddie and Ruth May looked at each other and there was an unspoken agreement that if the debridement didn’t work, the four of them would make Brian agree to an amputation. Somehow. By any means. Delia hadn’t ever felt so aggressively protective of anybody except maybe Freddie and was curious to know how far she could go against Brian himself in order to keep him alive.

Thankfully, it wasn’t necessary. Ruth and Harold hugged their son once the doctors told them the debridement had served its purpose and Delia and Roger hugged each other to hide the tears in their eyes.

 

-x-

 

With Brian still recovering little by little, there was only so much the band could do but it didn't keep them from arguing about anything and everything. Delia was already used to the background noise so the discussion about lyrics and chords it didn’t distract her much from learning her lines for Eden End. She was playing Stella Kirby, an actress that returned home after eight years and got in a messy affair that involved her stranded husband, a former bachelor and her own little sister. Funnily enough, Samantha was playing the sister.

“Do you know what’s even funnier?” her girlfriend asked her one day while both were lying around on Delia’s bed, half rehearsing and half making out.

“What?”

“Rob and Anthony, you know, the ones playing your ‘husband’ and the bachelor? I saw them making out in the toilets the other day.”

“What? No!” Delia laughed. “What are the odds…? This is going to be the gayest play ever.”

“Poor Mister Hall.” Samantha didn’t sound that worried for their director before she straddled Delia and kissed her. Rehearsing was forgotten for quite a while and a laughing Freddie had to knock on Delia’s door and shout for them to _‘Keep it quiet, you two!_ ’

Even with Delia and Samantha’s… Interruptions, which amused Freddie and Roger to no end, and even with poor Brian writing most of his lyrics at the hospital, they somehow managed to finish the album before they had to start recording. By then Brian was fresh out of the hospital so of course, Freddie claimed that a celebration was in order.

“Isn’t Brian still at the hospital?” Samantha asked one day she was having lunch at their flat. Munching on a sandwich, Delia shook her head.

“He went home two days ago,” Deaky updated her before Delia could do the same. “To stay with his parents for a while.”

“And, my dears, a little party never hurt nobody. I truly think he’ll benefit from it, actually, after so many weeks trapped in that horrible room…” Freddie shuddered in a theatrical way that made them smile, even while every single one of them had depised that room in the end. “So you all better be ready for tonight, because I’m not waiting for anybody.”

“You are the one we always have to wait for, Freddie,” Roger complained, laughing when he got a cushion to the face for an answer.

But for once, the reasoning made sense. Delia didn’t doubt for any second that she or Freddie or Roger (or the three of them, most likely) would end up completely wasted. That didn’t mean that dancing around for a while and cautiously drinking a couple of beers would be bad for Brian. The actual opposite, she thought, so Delia made sure to recruit Chrissie and the girls for the night. It would be nice for all of them to be together, with Samantha as well.

Or maybe without Samantha, because at the very last minute she phoned to tell them she wouldn’t be going.

“What do you mean you can’t come?” Delia protested, holding the phone between her chin and shoulder while she put on the boots.

 _“I’m really sorry, something came up,”_ Samantha sounded truly distressed, the poor thing. _“I’ll compensate you, I promise.”_

“But…”

Delia suddenly found herself holding a phone that wasn’t communicating anymore.

“Del, you coming?” Brian called for her from the door, where Deaky was helping him put on a jacket. Delia forced a smile on her face.

“Sure.”

 

-x-

 

As expected, the night slowly turned wilder as hours passed. Delia was in a pretty low mood that had her, however, laughing and drinking and dancing around as easily as always. And why shouldn’t it feel as easy as always? Her girlfriend couldn’t come, sure, but it wasn’t the end of the world. She had a bunch of wonderful friends, Brian was almost recovered, they were having a good time, people's attention was on them and particularly on her.

Maybe it was her dress (that wasn’t really a dress but some black blouse from Freddie that was barely long enough to be used as a dress), maybe people had done their maths and realised, after the group had been for more than an hour at Valbonne, that the only single ones were Delia and Roger.

Two months earlier they would have been making out in a dark corner or maybe playfully fighting over a pretty girl. However, right then and with a girlfriend, Delia could only spin around on the dance floor under the colourful lights and try to outdance Deaky. She always failed but it made them both laugh, so it didn’t matter. What mattered was Roger’s wink from where he was talking to some girl, what mattered was Freddie’s wild laugh when he and Veronica joined their little dancing crowd while Mary, Brian and Chrissie emphatically tried to look like they didn’t know those four maniacs dancing like there was no tomorrow.

She had a great time, but it could have been even better, and Delia hated that feeling with all her heart. That was maybe why she volunteered to help Chrissie take Brian back to the flat.

“I don’t even know why he’s so drunk!” the poor girl exclaimed, trying to hold her tall noodle of a boyfriend. Delia wasn’t that sober either but hurried to help when Brian staggered. “He didn’t even finish his second beer…”

“Maybe the painkillers, combined with alcohol…?” Deaky suggested, and it as good as any other possibility.

“Whatever” Delia threw Brian’s arm over her shoulder while Chrissie’s arm surrounded his waist. “Come on, Chris, let’s get this poodle back home.”

Chrissie’s flat was closer so in the end they went there rather than to the band’s, because carrying Brian around was both hilarious and a disaster. Going upstairs was almost impossible, and he almost fell to the floor and dragged Delia along while Chrissie had to let go of his waist in order to open the main door. All in all, both girls were quite relieved when they dumped him on Chrissie’s bed, careful not to put any of his weight on his bad arm.

“He better take care of my washing shift at the flat for this,” Delia slurred. “You’re on your own now, Chrissie, so good luck.” She leant to kiss her on the cheek and tried to leave the room, but she stumbled on something and Chrissie had to grab her to save her from falling down.

“Hey, but… Wait!” she exclaimed, and then winced when somebody in the flat hissed at them to stay quiet. Delia giggled. “Delia, you are drunk, and your flat is on the other side of London. I can’t let you go back on your own…”

“Ugh, whatever.” Delia shrugged. She was tired, after all, and in no position to refuse falling asleep in a few minutes when the alternative was to walk for more than half an hour. “Where’s the couch?”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” 

And that was how Delia found herself sharing a bed with her friend and his girlfriend, after being stood up by her own girlfriend. Even in the darkness, she was able to see Chrissie all curled up on the other side of Brian and the sight stirred something up inside Delia. For all she had tried not to, she fell asleep sad and wishing that she was curled up next to Samantha.

 

-x-

 

Delia started performing Eden End on August and the boys started to record their third album. The routine of juggling theatre, the shop and showing up at the recording studio for moral support was familiar and easy to fall back into, even if poor Brian couldn’t stop having the worst luck ever and one morning he just collapsed at the studio.

Roger drove them to the hospital so fast that he got fined, although none of them gave a fuck about it once the doctors told them the news.

“An ulcer?” Freddie asked in disbelief, while behind him Deaky looked like he wanted to punch something or someone. “What the fuck?”

Delia wasn’t entirely sure about the _why_ because she didn’t listen to the doctors, because Brian suddenly was being rushed straight to the operating table and nothing else mattered. Roger kicked a table and his anger found a victim in some poor representative Trident sent to the hospital to ask about their upcoming tour. The said representative went back to the studio after being screamed at in the parking for half an hour (a spectacle that Delia, Freddie and Deaky got to see from Brian’s window) and the tour got cancelled without a second thought. They all agreed that first was Brian, then the band. No matter what.

Brian was sent back home soon after the operation but it wasn’t over, of course it wasn’t because they could never be lucky enough. They kept on with the recording but the sessions had to be frequently cancelled because either Brian was too sick to get up from the bed, or once at the studio he would be in too much pain to play no matter how many painkillers he took. On top of everything else, those painkillers would leave him dizzy and numb enough that when he actually played his contribution was so below par that those tracks couldn’t be used.

“Guys, you can’t go on like this.” After two weeks of sickness, frustration and sporadic process, it was Veronica the one who said it. And thank God it was Veronica, because last time Delia had tried to say something Brian’s reply had been so brutal that he had apologized for it in the same breath. Delia couldn’t blame him, though. He was frustrated and tired and in pain, he was allowed to flip out from time to time.

In the end they decided that the band would continue recording without Brian and he would play his parts when his health improved; he had to reluctantly allow Delia to take him back to the flat while Veronica walked a few steps behind them and carried the Red Special in its case.

Those weren’t easy weeks. Juggling theatre, the shop and helping at the recording studio had Delia missing several sleeping hours every night, not to mention those nights she spent with Samantha. She had to come to Delia’s flat rather than the other way around because Delia refused to leave Brian all alone while the others were at the studio, scared that something would happen and nobody would be there to help him. They managed, in the end. Brian and Samantha got along well enough and Delia tried to keep it as quiet as possible in the bedroom, although after sharing a room with Roger for more than five years there were very few things that a couple could do to scandalize Brian.

He wasn’t sleeping either, but it was different. Delia didn’t sleep because she didn’t have time whereas Brian just _couldn’t_ fall asleep. Maybe the stay at the hospital had fucked up his sleeping patterns, who even knew, and sadly it wasn’t that long before Delia got used to seeing him already awake and reading on the couch first thing in the morning. And she wasn’t that much of a morning person, so those quiet moments early in the mornings turned into cuddling soon enough.

After a while (he really wasn’t a touchy person) Brian came around and would smile when Delia came out of her room each morning to promptly drop on the couch and lean against his good arm, hair in a messy braid and dark shadows under her eyes after not enough hours of sleep.

“Hasn’t your girlfriend told you that you look really mad in the mornings?” he asked one time. His hair was a proper mess and with dark shadows of his own under his eyes, he looked like a cross-breed between a mad scientist and a sleep-deprived writer. So, more or least what he was.

“Shut up, May.” Delia frowned and cuddled closer, making him laugh. It was a tired laugh but a laugh nevertheless.

“You should go out one of these nights,” he suggested after a while. “Go dancing with the girls, have some fun.”

“And leave you here to mope around like a puppy? Yeah, not bloody going to happen. What?” Delia asked when he smiled.

“You said that at the airport, when I flew back from the States.” Brian looked quite amused by the memory. “You looked like you were going to bite that poor nurse’s head off.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? To leave you alone?”

The already familiar frown appeared on his face and Delia could feel his whole body moving away from her as his mood plummeted in a matter of seconds. “Many people would have. I mean, I was in an ambulance after all...”

“Well, many people aren’t your friends. I can see you overthinking from here, Bri, so stop it.” Delia not so playfully yanked at one of his curls until she made him turn around and look at her. “The boys have told you many times, it’s not your fault that you are sick, and you didn’t fuck up the tour. If anything, now you are going to have more time to organize it. I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s just that… Fuck. I really feel like a waste of time right now.”

“You are not a fucking waste of time!” Delia hit his leg with a cushion, but his frown stood in place. “If you ever say that again I swear I’ll throw my cat at you.”

“I think she loves me more than she loves you at this point.” Brian deadpanned. “Fuck, it’s so unfair… I don’t even have to move around as much as Freddie or Rog, but I still can’t play.”

He longingly looked at the Red Special, which was out of its case and on the table in front of the couch. He always had the guitar nearby, no matter that he couldn’t play yet, and it looked a bit like masochism to Delia. But who was her to judge?

“Stay the fuck away from that guitar, Bri,” she said instead. “Last time you tore a stitch open. Do you want me to play some records? We still haven’t listened to Bowie’s new single… The Who? Deep Purple?” she tried, mildly fake enthusiasm in her voice. Brian sighed.

“Listening to music isn’t the same as playing yourself, Del.”

“It isn’t, huh?” Delia rolled her eyes at his pout and got up to take the guitar, dropping back on the couch but a bit further away from him so she would have space enough.

“What are you doing?”

Brian’s wariness was plainly obvious in his voice as if he feared that Delia was going to drop the guitar, and he immediately got as close as the instrument would allow him to. In all fairness, he did a pretty good job at hiding the pain on his stomach when he moved. However, Delia had learnt to see behind his carefully neutral expressions a long while ago and couldn’t be fooled so easily. “Don’t dare to move again for the next hour, or else,” she warned. “And what does it look like? You can’t play yourself and you don’t want to listen to any records either, so I guess I better start learning to play.”

Delia tentatively strummed the strings and both her and Brian winced at the strident noise emitted by the guitar.

“Okay, no, stop it, that was awful.” He looked quite distressed and it made Delia giggle.

“Well, I told you I don’t know how to…!” 

Brian managed to sit closer and for a second Delia thought he was going to take the guitar from her. He took her hands instead, repositioning them to his liking until he nodded in satisfaction a few seconds later.

“You have to hold it like that. Try again”

 

-x-

 

Delia had already learnt how to play White Queen and The Night Comes Down (because of course Brian would teach her to play his songs first, what had anybody expected, honestly...) by the time Brian was able to go back to the studio and record his parts just in time to finish recording the album and join the photoshoot for the album cover. That morning was hilarious, honestly.

“Why are they so shiny?” Veronica asked when she saw the final cover. Delia giggled.

“Vaseline.”

“... Okay, has anybody told the joke already or…?”

“I don’t know, but your boyfriend slipped on the shower while trying to wash it off and couldn’t get up. Freddie laughed so much he almost pissed himself.”

Once Trident approved the budget for the upcoming tour said boyfriend basically scared whoever was in charge of the stage effects into buying a new lighting ring, and Delia and the girls got dragged along for costume fitting. Well, the girls plus Brian and Deaky got dragged along because it was obvious that Freddie and Roger were leading the whole fashion trip; they almost drove their poor designer crazy. 

Freddie was still really into the whole white and black aesthetic, as demonstrated by his determination to keep his and Brian’s nails black and white respectively (Brian tried to pass it off as resignation but Delia had seen him a couple of times carefully applying clear nail polish on top of the white one so it would last longer. It was endearing, honestly) so to keep the aesthetic, they got new costumes for everybody and Freddie told them that his main colour for that tour would be white rather than black.

Then he woke Delia up at six, the same morning they were leaving, so she could help him pack five of his black outfits into the already crammed suitcase.

“White, my ass!” Delia protested, struggling to close the suitcase while Freddie sat on it.

And just as that, by the end of October they were gone again. Delia wasn’t quite sure if after two tours (one of which she had joined for a while) she didn’t miss them as much, or if she was just getting used to missing them. She didn’t particularly like any of the options… And least of all two nights before the 1st of November.

She couldn’t tell Samantha, she wasn’t ready, not yet, and the only person who knew how difficult that day and night were for Delia wasn’t there. Veronica had been supposed to spend the night at Delia’s flat but she phoned to cancel and profusely apologise at the last minute. Apparently, her aunt was at the hospital and sure, and it was a pretty horrible night to be on her own, but how could Delia blame her friend?

She didn’t sleep at all. Cuddling with the cats, getting mildly drunk on a half-empty bottle of Möet Freddie had lying around and putting on one of Roger’s old college hoodies helped, but only a bit.

Sheer Heart Attack distracted her, as the album was released the 8th of November and it was an absolute hit. Delia wasn’t sure of how in touch the band was with the world outside the tour but they had to be somewhat aware, at the very least, because if radios were to be believed hysteria had reigned again at Liverpool Empire and Leeds University during their shows. Freddie even had to stop the gig to get everybody to calm down, so Delia was almost sure that they had to see how big they were getting. And that time it was all Queen, there was no Mott The Hoople, they were the main band rather than the support one. Jesus Christ...

Being on the streets and hearing every person under thirty talking about the album felt utterly surreal. There were times when Delia couldn’t believe that people on the bus were excitedly telling each other about their new favourite song from the album, because she had seen those same songs hastily written down on napkins or college notes. A boy on the tube said something about Now I’m Here and suddenly Delia saw Brian writing those same lyrics at the hospital while Roger fussed over him, two young sisters argued about Tenement Funster while shopping at Biba and there was Deaky two months ago playing Brian’s parts during one of his forceful absences.

The other girls were as dazzled as Delia, even if Veronica was a bit more distant all through November. Delia didn’t realize how distant until one day they all managed to get together after lunch to have tea and she didn’t show up.

“Well, she’s starting at the new school, she must be busy these days,” Chrissie supposed, and they all had to accept it as a fact once they weren’t given any other explanation. It made sense after all, so nobody thought twice about it. Hell, Delia was absent almost every time the girls met because she was rehearsing, performing or at the shop, she didn’t have the right to judge Veronica’s absences. Everybody forgot about that once Killer Queen started to be played _everywhere_. It was such a hit that the boys actually had to interrupt their tour in December so they could play at Top of the Pops.

They managed to get backstage passes for everybody, although a very taciturn Chrissie had to decline because the tailor shop wouldn’t let her leave early.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure there will be more opportunities…” Delia tried to console her on the phone, and Chrissie sighed.

 _“Maybe if I quick our old telly hard enough I’ll manage to make it work so I can see the boys… Make sure Brian is alright, will you? If it was up to that dumbass, the tour wouldn’t stop even if he was in pain.”_  

Freddie said he was going to dress everybody first thing after jumping from the bus while it was still moving a bit (which made their poor driver Matt yell at him). Nobody dared to complain and he got the boys ready in record time so he could take his time with the girls.

“Sometimes I think we are only your Barbie dolls,” Delia protested. Nobody quite listened, however, because it was obvious that she was happy with her tight black trousers and white shirt. The latter had a neckline low enough that the silver necklaces Freddie put around her neck were perfectly visible for everybody around her. The infamous black and white aesthetic, plus silver that time. Yeah, Delia was pretty happy.

She barely had time to hug and kiss everybody for good luck before Mary, a recently arrived Veronica and herself were bluntly moved apart from the stage. For some reason, Mary was smiling.

“Freddie is probably going to bite some poor guy’s head off for that,” she explained to Delia before wrapping an arm around Veronica’s shoulders. “Are you alright, sweetie? You look a bit pale.” 

She did look a paler than usual in that dark blue dress. However, Delia severely doubted that Freddie had messed up the colours so badly after choosing such pretty outfits for Mary and herself. “Are you okay?” she insisted. Veronica gave her a little smile.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just tired, kids at the school are a handful… And I’m really nervous for John, to tell you the truth.”

“Oh, Ronnie, you have nothing to be nervous about…” Mary gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Deaky has been playing for so long, surely there’s nothing that…”

“You want me to LIP-SYNCH?”

Freddie’s angry exclamation made them turn around to look at the boys. They were a bit behind their singer, but backing him nevertheless while he faced some bloke from the BBC.

“I don't understand why we can't simply perform live...” Delia heard Brian trying to mediate.

“The audience will never know the difference.”

“We'll know the bloody difference!”

Aaand mediation was out of the window. The bloke from the BBC made it clear once again that the band would be lip-synching before he finally backed off at Freddie’s angry stare. Mary and Veronica quickly went near the singer to calm him down and tell him that everything would be fine, but Delia fell behind. Frowning, she watched some unknown man with dark blonde hair talking to Freddie for a second before he ran after the BBC bloke. 

“The way things are done are a load of bollocks, mate.” Roger threw a drumstick in the BBC bloke's general direction while he complained and Delia ducked to avoid it. It was almost a reflex action after spending so many hours at the studio, so she just kept walking towards the boys.

“This is the BBC,” Brian mocked the bloke’s words before he noticed Delia’s presence. “Did you hear that, Del? Lip-synch…”

“I think everybody heard that, or rather everybody heard Freddie…” she absently commented, watching the blonde man make a beeline to Freddie. “Hey, who the hell is that?”

Her friends all groaned in exasperation. 

“That fucking wanker, I swear to…”

“If you mean the man trailing after Freddie like a lovesick puppy, his name’s Paul Prenter,” Brian told her before Delia could ask what was Roger talking about. “The band’s assistant, by courtesy of Sheffield.”

“Yeah, we don’t like him,” Deaky said as a matter of fact without looking up from his bass. Delia looked back at Prenter, who was giving Mary a smile way too wide to be sincere, and frowned.

“... I don’t think I like him either, to be honest.”

As Deaky had said in defense of lip-synching, it was a perfect performance (even if Delia had to hold back a laugh when she saw Roger playing with a pout and barely hitting the drums at all). The small public at the studio was clapping and cheering as soon as the song was over and two girls even tried to go up the stage to hug Roger; Delia smiled when the BBC bloke fell on his face in his efforts to stop them. 

It happened a while later. Freddie was talking to Mary and unawarely (?) ignoring Prenter, Roger was signing those two girls’ backstage passes and Delia was trying to make Brian promise he would teach her to play Killer Queen on his guitar when Deaky called everybody over after Veronica had dragged him apart for a while.

“Guys, do you remember that January break we had talked about?” he asked once the band and the girls were all together. He looked pretty nervous even though Veronica was smiling right next to him.

“Sure, what happens?” Freddie asked, casually wrapping his arm around Mary’s shoulders.

“Well, don’t make any plans.”

Delia and Roger exchanged confused glances, although Brian was the one who asked further. “And that is because…?” he frowned.

Deaky’s already nervous smile got more nervous but also incredibly happy. He took his girlfriend's hand in his. Delia saw Veronica lovingly staring at him while putting her hand over her belly, and her brain connected all the dots before Deaky could continue talking.

“Because Ronnie is pregnant. Guys, we’re getting married!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -A certain bitchy cat is finally warming up to her owner, it seems...
> 
> -Delia got a gf!!
> 
> -Btw, every single play Delia performs was an actual play performed around those exact months at the Royal National Theatre (there's a pretty useful article on that. Thanks @wikipedia). Delia is not lazing around, my girl is acting her ass off while also helping to keep a rock band sane you guys.
> 
> -1974 definitely wasn't Brian's year, poor thing. Hepatitis, gangrene, then the ulcer... Poor guy. I wasn't sure how to/if I should introduce his parents during this chapter because I've never read anything about them being at the hospital or whatever, but then I thought... Irl Brian really didn't want to amputate and he was pretty close to dying. I have already said that Delia isn't the most moral person out there and Deaky is quite ruthless as well, even though he's quiet and everything else, so... Yup. She freaked out, he helped, a poor nurse got fired, Bri's parents made their cameo, Freddie knows everything and poor Roger wasn't involved but still felt guilty, bless him.
> 
> -Queen apparently went partying to Valbonne while they were working on Sheer Heart Attack, so there goes a smol clubbing scene and baby disco Deaky.
> 
> -So far I've -properly- written about Veronica, Mary and now Chrissie... Damn, I really want to write about Dominique as well, although that will take longer :/ Delia will eventually meet pretty much all of Freddie's bfs so David, Joe, Winnie and of course our darling Jim will make their appearance although, just like Dominique, it will take longer.
> 
> -It's true that Queen got new costumes and lighting for their third tour so I'm guessing that fashion victims Freddie and Roger and resident electric engineer John Richard Deacon respectively were somehow involved while poor Brian tried to keep everything under control as the Big Sister Friend™ he is. (Freddie is the Mom Friend™, don't fight me on this).
> 
> -About the songs mentioned by name in the chapter:
> 
> > Irl Brian wrote She Makes Me at the hospital but as it includes 'New York nightmare sounds' (his words, not mine) I guess it's not so inaccurate to say that he had been working on the song earlier and Freddie knew the title.  
> > Then, White Queen and The Night Comes Down from Queen II (two of my personal favourites and also Brian's, so they fit in the chapter because of course Mr I-Will-Include-A-Guitar-Solo-Or-So-Help-Me-God would teach someone to play the guitar using his own songs)  
> > Finally, once again, Brain wrote his lyrics at the hospital (Now I'm Here) and the poor thing was sick enough that Deaky had to play the acoustic guitar part's in Bri's absence (Tenement Funster, which btw is also written by Roger just in case somebody didn't know).
> 
> -If you look closely at the recording of Killer Queen at Top of the Pops, from 0:35 to 0:45 aprox you can see that Roger is barely hitting the drums lol.
> 
> -Irl Paul Prenter met Freddie in 1975 and became his manager in 1977, so let's pretend that BoRhap!Prenter was the band's assistant from 1973-1977 (so he's around just like in the movie) and became Freddie's manager in 1977.
> 
> -*banging pans together and running around* FIRST DEAKLING INCOMING, GUYS!!! ROBERT DEACON BORN ON JULY THE 18th, 1975 !!!


	10. 1975 (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: let's divide 1975 in three chapters!  
> Also me: * makes the chapter too long and has to divide it *  
> Me: ... okay let's make it four chapters.
> 
> Edit: now the first work of this series is my fancast, so go have a look, maybe tell me your opinion about it? ;)

“I still can’t believe you got pregnant and didn’t tell us. For a whole month, Ronnie...”

“I’d have loved to, but after telling my parents… Yeah, I wasn’t quite ready for a second round.”

“You know we wouldn’t have judged you, right?”

Veronica gave her a smile and a kiss on the cheek but didn’t answer, looking to the other side of the church’s snowy garden instead. It wasn't that good of an idea to plan a wedding in the middle of January, but otherwise Deaky's baby would have to count as a guest and Grandpa Tetzlaff would probably disown somebody. Delia followed her friend's gaze. With the heeled shoes, she was more than tall enough to see Veronica’s parents on the other side of the garden, outside the church. Both were talking to Deaky’s mother and sister Julie, and...

“They look happier.” Last time Delia had seen them, during the wedding preparations, there had been screaming involved.

Veronica shrugged in her coat. “I guess dad came around. I have a job, John’s a good man whether dad wants to acknowledge it or not, we’re getting married before the baby is born… He isn’t quite happy about this wedding but on his book, it could be worse.”

“Sure.” Delia rolled her eyes and fussed a bit over Veronica’s wedding dress so it wouldn't get all wrinkled under the coat. The dress had been carefully chosen with Freddie’s help and its shape helped to hide Veronica’s small bump, so it had to be perfect. “How long did you say…?”

“The baby won’t start kicking for another two or so weeks, Delly, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait… What the hell is that?”

Veronica’s choice of words might have given one of Deaky’s old aunts a heart attack, judging her expression, but Delia was far more interested in the white limo that pulled over in front of the church. She barely could hold back a laugher when she saw the people stepping out of the vehicle.

“Is that…?”

“Yup.”

“God, I’m gonna kill him,” Veronica muttered, grabbing a handful of her dress and quickly making her way to the limo. “Frederick Mercury, white was supposed to be my colour!”

Dressed head-to-toe in white satin (including a white feather boa and a coat) and with Roger and Kashmira under each arm, Freddie gave her a charming smile. Behind him, Mary, Brian and Chrissie rolled their eyes but weren’t quite able to hide their amusement. Delia heard a groan behind her and turned around.

“She’s going to kill him,” Deaky deadpanned. Delia looked back at their friends and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, they are hugging…”

“He’s hugging Ronnie so she can’t move her arms and strangle him, and you know it.”

Delia giggled and leant against her friend, softly nudging him. “You ready?” she asked. Deaky shrugged.

“I better be, or else Ronnie’s many relatives will take turns to kick me until I die. Believe it or not, it isn’t her brothers or dad who I fear the most.”

Both looked at Veronica’s mother and shuddered. For all his bravado, it wasn’t Veronica’s father who she had inherited her attitude from.

“Yeah, I get that. But don’t worry, they’ll love you,” Delia assured him. “As soon as they really get to know you, they will try to steal you away from us.”

“I’d pity them then. The Tetzlaffs are fearsome but I think the band could give them a run for their money.” Deaky pulled a face that had nothing to do with the fierceness of the band or his future political family.

“Deaks? What's wrong?”

“I... Well, I wished my dad was here to see this. To see his first grandchild.”

Delia's mouth fell open in surprise. She hadn't known... Oh, poor Deaky. 

“Do you...?” She bit her tongue at the last second but her friend shook his head.

“Ask away, it's okay.”

“Do you remember him?”

“Yeah. I wasn't that little when he died.” Deaky's eyes looked lost in his memories and Delia felt the sad smile forming on her lips.

“At least you have those memories. I'm sure he would be very happy, and very proud.”

Deaky's eyes were suddenly staring at her with a realization that felt familiar to Delia. “Who?” 

“... My mom.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Delia shrugged. “I don't remember her, but I know she would be proud. I'm basically living her dream as an actress. Ronnie knows but please, don't... Don't tell the others. Not yet.” 

Deaky smiled a bit and nodded before hugging her for several seconds. Delia kissed him on the cheek and rested her face against his shoulder, saying nothing else but sure that her friend could read the implicit _I’m here for you, I’m proud of you, I love you_. Words weren’t always necessary when John Deacon was involved.

 

 -x-

 

The wedding was small but beautiful. Delia spent most of it looking in awe at how in love her friends looked while also locking arms with Freddie, both badly hiding their amusement at Deaky’s aunt’s horrible hat. At some point Kashmira gave them a killer look and whipped them both with the boa.

Delia had never been a religious person and therefore knew nothing about masses. That one felt unusually short to her, however, and she thought that maybe her friends had done it purposely. Half of the guests were either atheist or from another faith so she guessed it didn’t quite make sense to go full catholic on them. Soon it was over, the priest said the words and Veronica kissed her husband rather than the other way around and bam, Deaky was a married man in God’s eyes.

Roger, Freddie and one of Veronica’s brothers pushed the rest back to the church’s garden, where they waited until the newlyweds walked out from the church so they could start bullying the poor things throwing rice. Veronica’s father looked quite distressed about the whole thing, Kashmira had Roger’s arm around her shoulders and both were laughing and Brian was taking pics like a maniac. The scene made Delia smile so much that it almost hurt her face, and for a second she looked at the loud, mismatched crowd of people celebrating and desperately wished that time could be stopped.

“Del!”

Standing on one knee on the snow, Brian took a pic of her as soon as Delia turned around. The actress rolled her eyes but smiled, fixed her coat and and posed dramatically. Brian took another pic before signaling to the smaller crowd on his right. “Ronnie is going to throw the bouquet, go join them!” he exclaimed, a bit too enthusiastically.

“Bri, you know I’m not…”

Delia stopped talking when she realized. Of course Brian knew she wasn’t single. It was actually the other way around. He knew that not trying to catch the bouquet would mean she wasn’t single, and then there would be noisy questions from the newlyweds’ families that Delia wouldn’t be able to answer. 

For a second their eyes met. Brian’s looked sad, practically shouting _I’m sorry, this is stupid, I’m sorry that you have to pretend_. Delia gave him her best smile and held her head high as joined the bunch of girls that stood together in front of Veronica. She found a place between Chrissie and Kashmira and looked at Veronica; the sight of her friend erased any discomfort from Delia. Veronica looked tired and definitely pregnant, but also immensely happy. Her hair was getting loose from her bun and it gave her a soft look that defied her naughty smile.

“Alright, ready or not, there it goes!”

Veronica turned around and threw the bouquet of flowers over her shoulder before anybody had time to ready themselves. Delia watched it spin in the air for what seemed just a second… And then she got hit on the chest by a bunch of roses. Delia looked at the flowers in disbelief; around her the other girls cheered and clapped but she was having quite the flashback from the first time her friends had watched her acting and Freddie had flung a bunch of flowers at her. Those flowers, five years earlier, had felt a lot less bitter.

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Delia shrugged (it wasn’t legal for her to marry anyway) and threw the bouquet over her own shoulder, walking away from the consequent commotion and making her way to her friends. Roger welcomed with open arms and a pout.

“Why did you do that?” he whined as he hugged her. “Bri could have taken a pic of us with them, we would have looked amazing.”

That was true, Delia’s red coat was a perfect match to Roger’s black and red suit. She sighed. “Well, I can always take it back for a pic. Do you know who has it?” Delia turned around and barely held back a laugh when she saw Chrissie holding the bouquet and poor Brian hiding behind Freddie, not from his girlfriend but apparently from Veronica’s brothers who looked quite keen into finding the next groom to-be. “Oh God, poor thing.”

“We are going to tease him to Hell and back, right?”

“Of course we are, who do you think you’re talking to?” Delia rolled her eyes and locked arms with Roger as everybody started to walk away from the church and to the restaurant. It was a bit cold, but not enough to rent cars for everybody.

“Good girl.”

“Don’t you already know?”

“You are a menace,” Roger said as a matter of fact. Delia smiled, knowing that both were thinking of that time she had said those exact same words after they had shagged. Roger’s little pull on her arm brought her back to the present. “Why did you even try to catch the flowers? You aren’t single. Or did something happen with Sam?”

Her friends always, always made sure to call Delia’s girlfriend Sam instead of Samantha when they were in public, just in case. It was such a tiny detail, but it made Delia love them a little bit more every time she heard it.

“Nothing happened, but Bri made me realize… Not trying to catch the bouquet basically yells ‘I’m not single’”.

“And?”

“And then I would have to answer all kinds of questions from Veronica’s brothers or Deaky’s aunts about my supposed boyfriend.” Delia was pretty sure she wasn’t exaggerating that part. It had been the same at her sister’s wedding, many years before. Young men interrogating girls about the ‘competence’, old ladies just being noisy. “And then at some point I would say the wrong pronoun, and this wedding would turn into me accidentally coming out to some eighty years old lady. I’m not going to ruin Deaky’s day…”

“Jesus, woman, breathe.” Roger chuckled, although he didn’t look that amused. “You know, before meeting you guys I had never quite realized how exhausting it must be having to measure your words and actions around people all day long.”

“Trust me.” Delia looked at Freddie, who walked with Kashmira and Mary in front of them. He was grabbing Mary’s hand a bit too tightly. “It is.”

Apparently deciding that he wouldn’t allow any kind of ugly feelings at the wedding, Roger smiled. He suddenly spun her around and dipped her like a lady in the movies; it happened so fast that Delia barely had time to register him kissing her on the side of her lips. His long hair covered their faces, however, so people thought they actually kissing and somebody even whistled.

“ _You_ are a menace,” Delia told him, giggling as he helped her back on her feet. “Love you, though.”

“Love you too, Delly.”

 

-x-

 

They had rented a nearby restaurant to have a small celebration. It belonged to one of Veronica’s many brothers so they were able to rent it for cheaper than usual, something everybody felt grateful for. The boys were still in the middle of their tour and while they were doing great, a lot of the money went straight to Trident and the band didn’t see a pound of it, so they had to be careful in terms of spending.

The band plus Delia, Kashmira and the girls had a table for them. There was an empty chair next to Delia, however, because Deaky was bound to go around with Veronica in order to talk to their respective family members. Delia noted, half amused, that Deaky still avoided going anywhere near Veronica’s father.

“I can’t honestly say I blame him,” Freddie said from his chair, next to Delia’s. “I’m a really open minded person but I’d still lash out at whatever lad that got my daughter pregnant.”

Kashmira raised an eyebrow. “Treating your daughter as a possession?” she asked. “That’s terribly open minded of you.”

“Maybe, but in this time and country, Deaky could just leave her. All the responsibility would fall on poor Ronnie and… Lets say that many people wouldn’t consider her a good woman anymore. I said I’m open minded, not blind to the way things work.” Freddie looked at his little sister and grimaced. “Don’t tell dad I said that, Kash, it would kill me if he thought we might think the same about something.” 

The whole table laughed at it but Delia didn’t, and neither did Kashmira, Roger or a newly arrived Brian. How easy it was at times to spot what people had a fucked up relationship with their parents. Just put some words together, tell some half-assed joke and voilà.

“Bri, you alright there mate?” Roger asked as soon as Brian had properly sat down.

“Sure. Had to escape from Veronica’s brothers, they were trying to make me propose to Chrissie on the spot.” Brian rolled his eyes while next to him and still holding the bloody bouquet, Chrissie blushed. “Are you okay, Del? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable back at the church.”

“You didn’t, don’t apologize.” Delia shook her head. “I should be thanking you, actually, you might have saved me from accidentally giving some old lady a heart attack.”

Everybody except Roger looked completely lost, not knowing what they were talking about, but thankfully nobody asked about it. Freddie leant on his chair instead, enough to wrap an arm around Delia’s shoulders and suddenly cover her eyes with his hands.

“Freddie!”

“I might have a little something for you, my love.”

“Well, I might need my eyes to see it, you dummy.”

“Not yet.” Freddie’s breath tickled the skin of her neck and Delia squirmed. “You see, I couldn’t just let you be here all on your own while everybody else has a date…”

“I don’t have a date!”

“It’s not my fault that mom scared him away, Kash, and don’t interrupt your elders.” Freddie happily admonished his sister. Her friends started to whisper between them and Delia wondered what the hell was going on. “Anyway, a certain someone couldn’t come because her boss is a bitch that wouldn't allow her to take the day off…”

Delia’s heart skipped a beat. “No…”

“But thankfully, I’m a really talented artist and more than able to replicate a doctor’s signature at, let’s say, a medical justification.”

“No, you didn’t…!” 

Freddie finally uncovered her eyes. The light from the nearby window blinded her a bit, but not enough that Delia wouldn’t see Samantha suddenly sitting next to her on the previously empty chair. Her girlfriend was smiling and looked so beautiful that it nearly knocked the breath out of Delia; she wanted to kiss her so badly that her fingers stung. She almost wasn’t able to stop herself from doing exactly that, Deaky’s old aunts be damned, but Delia managed to kiss her on the cheek instead. Samantha immediately engulfed her in a rib-crushing hug that seemed to last forever and Delia just melted into it, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply the sweet scent of her hair.

“They’re so cute…”

“Gosh, Mary, they are going to give me cavities.” Roger’s words made Delia smile.

“Fuck off, Rog.”

“Good thing that you are a dentist, then,” Samantha noted. Her chest vibrated against Delia.

“I am _not_ a dentist!”

The whole table laughed at his distressed words and Delia smiled and pulled away from Samantha. The mostly friendly animosity between her girlfriend and her former lover would never stop being funny. Delia then turned to Freddie and punched him on the arm.

“Ow!” he protested. “You hurt me, Deliadear, you really do.” He pouted.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was going to come in the end?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Samantha was still smiling when Delia looked back at her. “I owed you one, remember? After that time I stood you up…”

“You owe me nothing,” Delia assured, looking at her from head to toe. “God, you look gorgeous…”

Delia recognised Freddie’s hand in the green dress that Samantha was wearing and that complimented her green eyes. Her hair was left loose and hanging around her shoulders, although the curls looked a bit more defined and out of her face than usual. All in all, Delia wasn’t lying. Her girlfriend was so gorgeous that it almost hurt to look at her.

There was a small awkward moment while Kashmira and Chrissie realized who the hell Samantha was (Brian had to tell Chrissie in a whisper and the poor thing dropped the flowers, to Delia’s amusement) but after a while everything just clicked into place. It definitely couldn’t hurt that Mary and the girls were used to meeting Roger’s many girlfriends and they pretty much followed the same strategy: make the girl feel welcome, then tease the partner endlessly. Even though they had to be a bit more discreet that time, Delia soon found herself groaning and dropping her head on Freddie’s shoulder while Mary told Samantha one of her many drunken anecdotes.

“She falls downstairs and basically disappears from sight and-” She was giggling so much she could barely breathe. “And we are like ‘Shit, she’s dead’ but then we see _one_ single hand up in the air and holding her drink -because of course she fell downstairs but made sure to save the drink- and suddenly we hear her yelling ‘I’m alright!’”

Already a bit tipsy, the whole table laughed -Kashmira was laughing so hard that she was a few seconds away from crying- and Delia sighed. “Freddie, I love you but I might kill your girlfriend. She’s destroying my reputation.”

“Falling downstairs while drunk but managing to save your drink seems like an awesome reputation to have, darling.”

Once lunch was over people started giving unprompted toasts to the newlyweds; Freddie had to be physically restrained from standing up because he had already drunk a bit too much and they honestly feared what could come out of his mouth. Deaky, on the other side of the place and being held hostage by a bunch of his aunts, made frenetic gestures that could be translated as _Stop that menace of a man or so help me God_ until he saw Freddie back on the chair and pouting.

Things started to get a bit off hand once somebody started to play music and the guests -those under the age of fifty, at least- moved the tables and chairs to clear the room and dance for a while. Delia had expected Deaky and Veronica to open the dancing but Julie Deacon and one of Veronica’s brothers beated them to it, and after that it was just a mess of tipsy people trying to dance without hitting each other. Brian tried to take some pics before Chrissie managed to drag him into the dancing crowd while Mary pretty much had to dive into it, looking for Freddie, and Delia lost Kashmira at some point so she was left to herself in the middle of the crowd.

It felt weird, looking at all those people and thinking that they were all related to either Deaky or Veronica. Delia herself had a quite small family: her father and two sisters who she wasn’t on speaking terms anymore. That was all. She was pretty sure they had some uncle on her mother’s side, but they had never met him so he didn’t count. For somebody with no living mother or any other relatives, Deaky’s small wedding felt like a lot of people even though the only guests were strictly close family, the band plus girlfriends and some of Veronica’s friends plus boyfriends.

But Deaky’s aunts were like a small army on their own, and everybody had long lost count of all of Veronica’s brothers and it made Delia smile; she couldn’t quite imagine how it was to grow up surrounded by so many people. Maybe Deaky would end up having a big family himself. Delia imagined a lot of little Deaklings running around in the studio and maybe it was the champagne, but she teared up a bit.

After a few seconds she finished her drink and decided to join Roger, who was next to the music player, leaning against the only amp and arguing with one of Deaky’s aunts about the music. The old lady seemed to be keeping her cool much better than the drummer and it made Delia roll her eyes as she walked to him. She never got there, however, because suddenly someone grabbed her hand and Delia got quickly dragged away and to the nearest toilet by her girlfriend.

“Did anybody see us?” Delia asked, locking the door as soon as they were inside. Samantha’s hands were all over her in a second and she rolled her eyes before leaning to kiss Delia’s neck and shoulder.

“I think so…”

“What!?”

Delia pushed Samantha way by the shoulders, but the other girl just snorted. “Your friend Mary gave us a thumbs up,” she said. Her hair was already a bit messy and her smile was so pretty and wide that Delia couldn’t stop herself from touching it, running a thumb over those lips. Samantha’s playful bite on her finger made Delia gasp.

“God, I love you.”

Samantha stood on her toes to kiss her. After hours of barely touching each other in front of the wedding guests, her lips were hungry and demanding and her hands were quickly all over Delia’s body and pushed her until her back hit the sink. Delia gasped in surprise when Samantha suddenly lifted her on the sink; her girlfriend got between her legs and took the chance to unabashedly bite and lick her way into her mouth until Delia’s head was spinning. She pulled away for air but moaned instead once Samantha started sucking and nipping at her neck. Eager fingers went under the dress, under the panties, and Delia held onto her girlfriend and cried out in pleasure.

“We really need to stop fucking in toilets,” she managed to say in between moans, tightening her arms around her girlfriend's neck. Busy peppering kisses all over her shoulders and breasts, Samantha giggled.

“At least this one is nicer than the last one.” She gave Delia a naughty smile and disappeared under her dress, between her legs. Delia felt a kiss on her inner thigh and suddenly Samantha did something with her both her tongue and fingers that made Delia throw her head back against the toilet mirror as her breath hitched.

 

-x-

 

The boys were back to their tour almost as soon as the wedding was over. Poor Veronica barely had a few days with her husband before he was gone, although once the other girls started to invade her flat on a daily basis it became obvious that she wouldn’t be alone.

The four of them were helping Veronica to find a house so she and Deaky could live together once the baby was born. It suddenly hit Delia that Deaky wouldn’t be sharing the flat with the band anymore, that she wouldn’t see him having breakfast every morning in their little kitchen. It stung, and even more because it made Delia realize that it wouldn’t be that long before everybody moved out. Brian would probably be the next one to propose -it only made sense with him being the formal one and also trying to please his dad. At some point Freddie would also move in with Mary as well and… And it would all be over.

After four years of convivence the mere idea of things changing so much hurt, _a lot_. She could barely imagine not waking up to her family every morning. At the same time, Delia felt that the only alternative for her would be to move in with Samantha and… She would lie if she said it didn’t make her feel all giddy inside.

They were doing great, both as girlfriends and actresses. The National Theatre Company was performing No Man’s Land, and as there were only four male characters in that play most of the other actors and all the actresses in the company were getting ready to perform Oedipus. Samantha played Jocasta and Delia was casted as Manto, prophet Tiresias’ daughter and whose abilities in prophecy were said to be much greater than her father’s. The makeup girls had a field day with Delia; her hair was longer than ever, almost reaching her waist, and it allowed them to go nuts trying different hairstyles that would supposedly give her an kinda esoteric look (or at least that was the intention).

The boys were doing amazing as well. Delia and the girls made sure to follow their shows and gigs all over the States, although they didn’t bother that much with the press other than to check on the boys when they didn’t have time to phone. That was how they found out about Freddie’s nodules on his vocal chords, although the next time the boys were able to phone they assured them that the singer only needed to rest and take it easy. Freddie’s way of reassuring the girls that he was okay was to sing Killer Queen on the phone at the top of his lungs until someone (probably Brian) smacked him on the head to make him stop.

Keeping track of the band was the only use they had for the press, however, because it was like the second tour all over again. Every single fan that got interviewed only had good things to say about the band while on the contrary, critics didn’t like them that much and usually made poor comparisons with Led Zeppelin and other rock bands.

“I mean, that isn’t a bad critic per se,” Veronica argumented, rearranging Mary’s hands on her baby bump so the other girl could feel the baby kicking. “They are comparing them to _Led Zeppelin_ , who right now are quite a bit bigger than them. I wouldn’t… _Oh_.”

“Is it okay, did I hurt you?” Mary anxiously asked, moving her hands away. Chrissie made a noise in Delia’s kitchen and her blonde head suddenly popped out of the door.

“Do I have to take someone to the hospital?” she asked.

“ _I_ would have to take myself to the hospital, I’m the only one here who knows how to drive,” Veronica smiled, rubbing her belly. “Don’t worry, this little one just quicked where I didn’t expect him.” 

Delia’s grin was so wide that it threatened to split her face in two. Little Robert Deacon (Veronica was dead sure that it was a boy while Deaky said it was a girl, but nobody would now until the birth and Robert had just stuck) had started moving at the beginning of February and by April it had become quicking rather than just moving. The baby, adorable as it was, quicked a lot more when they put the radio on Veronica’s belly so he could hear his dad’s music. One time they even pressed the phone against Veronica’s belly, while on the other side of the planet Deaky spoke louder and louder until the baby had suddenly kicked, hard enough that they saw his little tiny footprint on Veronica’s belly. That had been a bit creepy but also oddly endearing, watching an unborn baby could get so excited hearing the voice of his dad.

For once, everybody was happy and life was good and enjoyable. All in all, Delia should had known it had been too good to last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have many facts to share this time and, as per usual, pls remember this is stuff I've read around so I'm not 100% sure of the veracity but let's pull the fanfic excuse and call it a day.
> 
> -Anyway, there it goes Deaky's wedding! :D Aparently Freddie did show up at the wedding in white, with a feather boa and in a limo... And the annecdote talked about Kashmira being invited, so I was pretty happy to add her to the chapter. I based the Deacons and Tetzlaffs on my own family -that's it, basically the Weasleys. However, what I said about Deaky's closest family is true as far as I know. His dad died when he was young and there was a little sister called Julie, that for this fic's purposes will be Kashmira's age.
> 
> -Aaand Delia finally told a friend about her mother, even if she didn't go into details. From time to time I write a few lines about her family because they will be talked about in the future and I don't want people to forget who they are.
> 
> -Fun fact, I think Brian basically ran off to the Canary Islands for a week in January of 1975, although I didn't add it to the chapter because it didn't quite fit.
> 
> -Delia obsesses a bit too much about being discovered :( Freddie and Roger are Good Bros™, poor Brian is perpetually a bit sad about something and Deaky just wants to breathe in peace for a second.
> 
> -Fun fact 2.0, the whole annecdote of Delia falling downstairs but saving the drink actually happened irl to me and I'm actually quite proud of it.
> 
> -Sneaking away from the band to fuck is a tradition started somewhere around 1971 by Deaky and Veronica, and happily carried on by Delia and Samantha in 1975. Fight them.


	11. 1975 (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay at this point I think it's become obvious that I don't know what I'm doing with the chapters set in 1975. So far, the whole year is getting divided into five chapters. It had been supposed to last only two.

_All in all, Delia should had known it had been too good to last._

All it took was a stupid mistake. Either Delia or Samantha forgot to completely lock the door of the changing room after the rehearsals and both were too busy snogging each other’s brains out to hear the noise of the key in the lock. Both actresses moved away from each other as fast as possible but it wasn’t nearly enough. Delia suddenly found herself in front of a really flustered and confused cleaning lady that dropped her mop, having obviously seen what was going on. 

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t know there were people inside,” she muttered, hurrying to leave the room. From where she was standing behind Delia, Samantha groaned and dropped her head against her girlfriend’s back. The cold feeling of having screwed everything up made Delia’s stomach drop.

They were called into the director’s office that same afternoon. Samantha went in first after Delia gave her hand a squeeze, trying and probably failing to be of some comfort. There was no comfort to offer in a situation like that one. Delia anxiously bit her nails, thinking of all the possible outcomes. They could get fired… Hell, they could even get reported to the police for public indecency or whatever, although Delia hoped that the director wouldn’t go that far. Mister Hall had to know that half of the National Theatre Company was gay. For God’s sake, they were actors! Having an unconventional lifestyle was almost required for their line of job. 

Samantha left the office half an hour later and avoided Delia’s eyes, although at least she wasn’t all teared up so it couldn’t have been that bad, right? They would overcome it, whatever it was.

“Miss Hughes?” Mister Hall’s clear eyes hit her like a punch to the guts when Delia looked up from the floor. Her director was standing on the door of his office and he didn’t look happy at all. “Please, come inside and have a sit.”

 

-x-

 

“Samantha, what the fuck!?”

“Shh! People are gonna hear you.”

“Well, I don’t fucking care!”

 

Delia lowered her voice nevertheless, taking long strides in her girlfriend’s direction. Samantha was sitting on the theatre’s stairs and smoking a cigarette while waiting for her. She looked utterly otherworldly surrounded by the smoke and the fog that was beginning to appear but Delia, for once, had more important things to focus on rather than her girlfriend’s beauty.

“Delia…”

“First of all, I didn’t kiss you, _you_ dragged me back into the changing room as per usual. And… What the hell, Sam, you told him I jumped on you?”

“I lied, okay, I’m sorry!” Samantha suddenly snapped. She put out the cigarette on the floor and stood up. “He thought we were together and wanted to fire us both, I said the first thing that came to my mind.”

All of Delia’s previous nervousness had been quickly replaced by anger as soon as she had heard the director’s words. But Samantha, in front of her, looked weirdly calm about the whole disaster. Maybe a bit guilty, but that was the least Delia expected from her. “Still. You implied that I kissed you against your will, Sam, that was incredibly ugly. Maybe if you had just told him we are together…”

“We aren’t. Not anymore.”

Delia’s anger came to a halt at those words. She must have misheard. No, it couldn’t… “What?”

Samantha straightened and looked her in the eye for the first time since Delia had joined her on the stairs. Her green eyes were still huge and gorgeous. However, for once, Delia was able to see the ambition without measure in them. She realized in an eye-opening instant that in Oedipus Samantha had been cast as Jocasta, the most important female character in the play, while Delia had more experience and was a better actress but had been cast as a minor character instead. 

“This… I was almost discovered, if the wrong people heard about it and it reached my…”

Samantha abruptly stopped talking, but it was too late. Delia had already heard enough to realize what was actually going on. “How long have you been with him? Because it is a him, right? It isn't a her,” she asked, although it sounded like a statement. Her voice came out low and angry and poisonous and she would have never spoken to her girlfriend like that, but she didn’t care.

“Delly…”

“Don’t fucking _Delly_ me and answer!” Delia yelled. A couple of people looked at her but she ignored them. “How long!?”

“Almost a year.”

Delia stepped back. Almost a year. That meant...

“So that ‘exclusivity’ shit you came up with after the tour…” She shook her head. “Hell, Samantha, why?”

“Why? You were travelling around with a fucking rock band and I was supposed to just stay in London and wait for you?” Samantha shot her a dirty glance before turning around. Delia sighed. Please, not the band again… Well, not the whole band itself. God, she couldn’t believe Samantha was still upset about that.

“I can’t believe this… I told you a year ago,” she reminded the other actress. “Roger and I were just messing around and I ended everything to be with you, because you asked me to! We are only friends!”

Samantha suddenly screamed out in frustration. Her fists were tightening so much that her knuckles were completely white. “Roger this, Roger that… I’m sick of him!” she exclaimed, turning around to face Delia so fast that her curls flew in the air for a second. “This isn’t even about Roger!”

Delia could have argued that she hadn’t been the one to bring up Roger and the band, but she decided not to and held her hands up instead. Whatever, as long as the dispute didn’t get worse

“Okay. Okay, alright… Look, let’s calm down. I… I honestly don’t care.” She spoke slowly so there was no chance of misunderstanding. And it wasn’t like she was lying anyway. “I never cared about exclusivity before you brought it up and I still don’t care, we… I'm fired anyway, we don’t have to break up, we can make it work.”

“No, we can’t. It’s…” Samantha frowned and stopped talking for a second. “Wait. Do you honestly expect that we will end up together?”

Delia blinked. That had sounded horribly like… “Don’t you?” she asked in a thin voice.

“God, you are even more naive than I thought.” 

The coldness of Samantha’s voice was almost worse than the look in her eyes. They took a look at Delia as if she wasn’t truly there, as if she meant nothing, and the contrast with the love and adoration Delia had previously seen on them hurt so much that she barely registered Samantha’s next words.

“Wake up, Delia, there’s no ending together for people like us, no… No growing old together, no shit like that,” she harshly stated. “Your friend Freddie? He might get to be who he is because he has a girlfriend that doesn’t know or doesn’t care who he fucks behind her back, and he will be famous and famous people get away with everything. But _us_?” she said that word like the mere concept of them was ridiculous. “There’s no future for us. I had to make my own. With… With Julian.”

No. No, please, no...

“But I…” Delia choked on the words. “Sam, I lo…”

“ _Stop_.” The interruption made Delia shut her eyes as she tried to fight the ugly sting of the tears. “Don’t say that. You are more than free to destroy your future for a woman but I… I can’t do that.” Samantha was talking to herself rather than to Delia, as if deep down she was trying to convince herself. “This one time was all the warning I needed. I’m sorry.”

She gave Delia a small smile, and she left, and Delia was suddenly alone in the stairs of a theatre that she no longer worked at. A couple of people were still staring after all the screaming. Delia gave them a tight-lipped smile and otherwise did her best to ignore them, looking down as she walked and breathing in and out slowly to avoid tearing up in the middle of the fucking street.

The bus ride to the flat became a blur. Delia was barely aware of the radio starting to play Flick Of The Wrist before she stepped down from the vehicle, although the melody stuck around even while she fumbled with the keys and tried to open the main door of the building. _Mesmerize you when he’s tongue-tied, simply with those eyes..._

Maybe it was a good thing that she was fired, that she didn’t get to be Manto. After all, Delia was a pretty sorry excuse for a prophetess if she couldn’t even predict her own girlfriend leaving her. The thought made her giggle for a second. As minutes passed, however, that giggling quickly turned into an ugly, hysterical laugh and Delia barely had time to close the flat’s main door behind her before she broke down sobbing.

 

-x-

 

She cried. She spent what felt like days on end in an endless loop of crying and sleeping and not even the phone ringing would get her out of Freddie’s room. She had barged in there that first horrible afternoon; after stealing one of his sweaters and curling up on his bed that still smelled like him, she had no real wish nor reason to leave the room. Even if she had to avoid looking at Deaky’s bed, because otherwise she would remember that he was going to move out and everything would hurt a bit more.

Only the cats got some reaction out of her; they would meow and paw gently at her until Delia got up to feed them. Titania got especially close to her, almost never leaving Freddie’s bed. After a few times of finding food intact in the bowl, Delia realized that her bloody cat would make noise and meow for food even though she was no longer hungry, just to make Delia leave the room. She cried a bit harder that morning.

Delia hit a new low after three (?) days. She raided Roger’s alcohol stock that he kept ‘hidden’ under his bed, got blackout drunk and woke up in her own bed with a pounding headache. She remembered nothing of the whole night but at some point, she had apparently decided to copy on her own arms the stars and constellations that Brian had painted on the ceiling, over her bed. Drunk Delia was a dumbass for using a permanent marker that wouldn’t wash off, but sober Delia had decided that it was a good idea to gulp down two packs of beer and a bottle of Möet by herself, and heartbroken Delia wanted another bottle of wine. Hangovered Delia wanted to cuddle her cat and fucking die.

She still couldn’t believe that Samantha had had the guts to do _that_ to her. Maybe if she slept long enough, maybe if the cats stopped meowing even though she was fucking feeding them, just maybe Delia would eventually wake up. And Samantha would be there. Beautiful, sweet Samantha, always up for a rehearsal or a cuddle or a shag. She wanted her back so badly that it hurt, and the worst was that Delia would have forgiven Samantha in a heartbeat if it meant that she could have her back. It was ridiculously pathetic but Delia couldn't bring herself to care.

The universe must hate her, she decided, because it allowed her to hope like a fool when somebody knocked at the flat’s door a few days after the phone had stopped ringing. She ran to the door and opened without even looking who it was first, because she was so sure that it was Samantha, it just had to…

It was Chrissie. Delia felt the wave of excitement fading and leaving behind the cold, the pain. She turned around so the other girl wouldn’t see her face when she stepped into the flat.

“What do you want, Chrissie? I’m not exactly the best company these days,” she muttered, heading to the kitchen. It was only politeness what made her start preparing tea instead of going straight back to bed.

“What do I want?” Chrissie asked in disbelief. “We want to know why you’ve fucking disappeared for a week… Hey, look at me.” Even though she was quite shorter, Chrissie gently grabbed Delia’s shoulders and made her turn around. “What’s wrong, what happened? We were worried, and the boys are one missed phone call away from flying back to…”

“Samantha broke up with me.” 

It hadn’t felt real until Delia said those words, and she had become so used to crying that she barely felt the tears once they started to roll down her cheeks. Chrissie made a quiet cooing noise and awkwardly stood on her toes to hold her while Delia wept, once again, embarrassing herself in front of a friend that time.

“It’s okay, honey, it’s alright...” Chrissie gave her a smile when they pulled apart, gently brushing Delia’s hair out of her face. God, she had to look like a mess… “Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll feel much better after that, trust me.” 

That must have been Chrissie’s polite way to tell her ‘honey, you stink’ without actually using those words. Delia didn’t mind and got into the shower just as told. She felt weirdly comforted being told what to do after so many days of nothingness.

Delia heard Chrissie talking to someone on the phone but didn’t ask about it once she was out of the shower. She twisted her hair into the towel and put on the clothes Chrissie had left for her (Delia’s t-shirt, a navy blue hoodie with the Imperial College’s emblem that had to belong to Brian and what looked like Roger’s jeans) before going to her bedroom.

Chrissie had a bag on Delia’s bed and was tossing clothes in its general direction, which made Delia frown. “What are you doing?” she asked. Chrissie started to stuff the clothes into the bag and didn’t look up.

“I couldn’t find your clothes, then I realized that most of your wardrobe actually belongs to the boys. Brian wasn’t joking about that…”

“Chrissie? What’s going on?”

Chrissie bit her lower lip once she finally looked up. “I phoned the boys while you were in the shower. You are going to the airport, there should be a ticket waiting for you.” She looked dead serious. “The boys are flying from Hawaii to Japan and they’ll meet you in Tokyo. I think you will arrive more or least at the same time…”

“What do you… What are they even doing in Hawaii?” Delia didn't understand anything.

“They went there to rest for a week.” _The same week you all but disappeared_ went unsaid. “Freddie’s vocal cords weren’t fully recovered yet and after all these months they are really tired, but they still have some gigs in Japan before coming back home.”

“What do you…?” Delia shook her head. “I can’t… I won’t just barge in their tour just because I can’t get my shit together.”

“You can, and you will. You know that Veronica and Mary and me… We’ll support you no matter what, but you need them. You can't go on like this.”

“Chrissie…”

“Freddie asked me to tell you that he wants you there. Period.”

 

-x-

 

Freddie wanted her in Japan.

That mantra was probably the only thing that made Delia pet the cats one last time before Chrissie took them to Mary’s, drag her bag through London and get in that plane. She had never set foot on a plane in her whole life but the novelty wasn't nearly enough. Eager for the numbness and tired to her bones, even after having slept for basically a week, Delia fell asleep as soon as her body touched the seat.

She woke up disoriented and sweaty, somewhere in Turkey while the plane was refuelled. Desperate to avoid her own thoughts, Delia promptly took her cassette player and put on her headphones, falling asleep again and with Deep Purple rumbling in her ears. Next time she woke up, thanks to an old lady that accidentally elbowed her while leaving the seat, Delia looked out of the window and saw for the first time the unfamiliar landscape of Japan.

Thankfully, all of the signallings at the airport were both in Japanese and English and she had no trouble recovering her bag, which had been a bit too big to bring into the cabin. Feeling a bit lost, Delia made her way through arrivals searching for some airport worker who spoke English so she could ask for the plane coming from Hawaii. She knew enough of Geography to be fairly sure that there would only be one plane coming from that part of the planet...

“Delly!”

She turned around and her lips trembled at the sight of Freddie making his way through arrivals like a maniac, dragging behind a suitcase and two bags. He dropped them a few strides away from her and Delia ran in his direction to meet him in the middle; she got her breath abruptly knocked out of her chest when their bodies collided. Freddie hugged her so hard that her feet didn't touch the floor and Delia held onto him like a lifesaver, crying in relief while he whispered sweet nonsense in her ear. For a second, the hand firmly gripping her waist and the other one running through her hair were the only things that kept Delia from breaking down in millions of little pieces. She choked out a sob and Freddie hugged her tighter until it hurt. 

He didn’t let go of her, touching her in some shape or form even while Deaky and Brian hugged her so hard that her heart broke a bit more, while Roger cradled her face in his hands and dropped kisses everywhere he could. “Come on,” he said, taking her bag afterwards and ignoring her protests about it. “We’ll talk at the hotel.”

The five of them left the airport surrounded by some assistants and security that had to patiently open a path for themselves and the band as soon as everybody set foot outside the terminal. Delia looked around, a bit surprised by the overwhelming number of fans and press that were waiting for the band. “You guys seem to be quite the hit here.” She had to raise her voice so her friends could hear her over all the screaming.

“Looks like the Japanese have better taste than those Americans. Or the British, really.” 

Freddie smiled at Deaky’s words but the happiness didn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, he put his arm around Delia’s shoulders and pulled her so close that she had to wrap her arm around his waist so they wouldn’t trip over each other. Freddie was wearing platform shoes so he was the perfect height to press a firm kiss to her temple and tuck her face into the crook of his neck; fans went crazier after that.

The trip to the hotel was pretty calm, once they managed to get on a couple of taxis. They would have used public transport but it became obvious that it would be impossible to get on a train or bus without causing some kind of accident.

“I mean, I know the entire tour is sold out here but… Bloody hell, guys, I hadn’t expected that many people at the airport. It feels a bit crazy,” Roger admitted. His eyes were wide open with excitement and amazement and it was the prettiest thing Delia had seen in the whole week. She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips for a quick peck that made Roger smile, even if the others groaned and mocked them. Delia was about to start tickling Deaky to erase that smugness off his face when she saw Roger's smile dropping and Freddie furiously searching for something in his pockets.

"What's wrong...? Oh, Roger, you are bleeding!" she exclaimed when she saw the drummer holding his hand, the one she had kissed. Looking a bit closer, Delia grimaced when she saw that the skin was bruised and shred with several cuts. Some of them were older and mostly healed while others had just reopened and were bleeding. Roger pulled a face.

"No shit, Sherlock. Now you got blood on your face... Thanks, Fred."

He grabbed the tissues that Freddie had just rescued from his pocket and carefully cleaned off a bit of blood from Delia's face before taking care of his hand. Squeezed between Delia and Deaky, Brian rolled his eyes.

"Drummers always tear their hands apart, at one point or another, but this one here  _always_ forget to take care of his hands..."

"Fuck off, Bri, you forgot to eat for two days when we were in Detroit!"

"As you can see, Delia, this is a highly functional rock band," Deaky said, smiling in a way that made it obvious that he was teasing his bandmates. The half-hearted discussion that followed, involving a retelling of those times in which somebody had been everything but a functional adult, wasn't exactly unexpected. Delia dropped her head against Brian’s shoulder and smiled. God, she had missed them... 

 

-x-

 

The hotel Trident had rented for them wasn’t the nicest one of Tokyo, but it was definitely better than the motels from the Queen II tour _and_ actually had a suite for the band so no putting beds together was actually necessary. Delia knew, however, that her friends would end up cuddling all over each other on the biggest bed like the dorks they actually were.

Delia didn’t care for fineness and dropped on the first couch she saw. Her intention had been to rest only for a few minutes but the next time she opened her eyes it was already dark outside. “Fuck,” she mumbled. Disoriented, Delia looked around. “Hello?” 

The suite seemed empty. Delia stood up and smiled when a blanket slipped from her shoulders and to the floor. It was pretty, white with little pink flowers embroidered and incredibly soft. One of her friends must had covered her with it before leaving. Delia quickly picked it up from the floor and put it around her shoulders, snuggling and pulling until only her face and feet were visible. Satisfied, she went to have a look out of the window of the suite. The eighth floor wasn’t that high for someone who lived in a capital city, but it was enough to give her a very pretty overview of Tokyo at night nevertheless.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t hear you…”

Delia screamed and turned around, banging her shoulder against the window in the process. The other person, a blond man, screamed as well. He stepped back so quickly that he tripped over the table in front of the couch and hit his toes against it. Still wary, Delia watched him grab his toes and curse under his breath. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, frowning.

“My… Shit, that hurt. My name is David.” He let go of his toes after a few seconds and straightened to properly look at her. He was a bit shorter than Delia. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. The boys sent me to check on you but I should have made some noise to warn you of my presence, forgive me.”

“It’s… It’s okay, don’t worry.” Delia waved a hand at the man’s obvious distress and noted that he looked quite friendly, once he calmed down a bit and smiled. But there was something about his accent... “Wait, you are American?”

“Yeah. I’m here to keep an eye on the tour, I work for Elektra…”

“The band’s record label in the States, I know.” Delia smiled and went to sit back on the couch. “Where are the boys?”

“At a press conference, here at the hotel. It got extended and Freddie asked me to come up here and check on you, so…” David shrugged. “You alright?”

“Yeah…”

 In Delia’s defence, she hadn't expected her stomach to growl at that exact moment. Her face made David laugh.

“Your stomach doesn’t seem to agree.”

 

-x-

 

David made a few calls and got a small variety of sushi delivered at the suite. It was delicious, even though Delia would have eaten almost anything. She couldn't remember the last time she had properly eaten.

She had asked David about the boys’ press conference and his answer was to mess with the television of the suite, fidgeting his way through a lot of Japanese TV channels until he managed to find the one broadcasting the conference. After that, Delia mildly bullied him into sitting on the couch next to her to watch the conference and sharing her dinner. The poor man deserved it, those had been a lot of utterly incomprehensible Japanese channels to surf through. 

Delia realized soon that David was a pretty easy-going man even if he seemed a bit nervous every time they spoke to each other. She didn't think much of it; Deaky was one of the nicest people she knew and at the same time it was difficult for him to meet new people. Even with all his nervousness, he was terribly funny. She had been in the middle of laughing hysterically at David's weirdly accurate imitation of Freddie speaking in Japanese when the door of the suite opened. Brian was the first one to enter, looking tired, although his face lighted up once he saw that Delia was awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked, dropping on the empty part of the couch next to Delia while the rest of the band followed him into the suite. Delia leant against his side, smiling when he tucked her under his arm and pulled her close for a couple of seconds.

“Better.”

It was the truth. However, Delia watched the look that Deaky and Roger gave her before dropping on the floor next to the table and taking some of the leftover sushi, and she realized that the night was far from over. At some point, she had to explain to her friends what the hell she was doing half a planet away from London.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

David's words made Delia look away from her friends and pout. “You're leaving?”

“Work calls.” David shrugged. “Someone has to make sure that these four don't mess up the tour.”

“We aren't that bad!”

“You almost stole a dog in Ohio, Roger.”

“First of all, it wasn't me, it was Freddie!” Roger emphatically protested while Freddie, still at the door, struggled to hide his laugh. “And that crazy girl pushed her dog up to the stage, it's hardly our fault that…!”

“I honestly don't know how you guys survive your tours.” Amused, Delia shook her head. David sighed.

“That would make two of us. Anyways, thanks for the dinner.” He smiled. “See you tomorrow? Are you staying around?”

“I…”

“She is,” Deaky answered before Delia could.

“Good. Bye, guys, see you tomorrow! And please, try not to show up at next morning’s interview hangovered.” 

Delia squirmed on the couch to wrap herself in the blanket once again and therefore missed David walking up to Freddie. What she did see, once she looked up again after getting comfy, was Freddie giving him a peck on the lips before the American left the room. Her face had to be epic because both Roger and Deaky started to laugh.

“God, I wished Brian had taken a pic of your face…!” the drummer laughed, apparently unaware of Freddie flipping him off from the other side of the room.

“Wait, is he…?” Delia asked, dumbfounded. “... Are you…?”

“Yup.”

Freddie’s smile, even if a bit shy, was the most gorgeous thing Delia had seen in a really long time. He was so happy that he even forgot to cover his teeth or duck his head as he still used to do, and Delia felt ridiculously willing to do  _anything_ to keep that smile on his face.

“I only have a complaint, do you have to be obnoxiously cute?” Roger’s protest startled her, and Delia turned around in time to see him batting Brian’s smack away. “You are going to give me cavities.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and went to take a bit of sushi. “You are just jealous, darling.”

“Of you, if anything.” Roger playfully snatched the sushi out of Freddie’s hand. “I don’t know how a man like David puts up with you.”

“You put up with him as well,” Deaky reminded him.

“Yeah, well, but I don’t _fuck_ him…”

“You _wish_ you were fucking me, Rog.”

“Del?” Brian’s arm was suddenly around her shoulders as he gently pulled her against his side, once their friends' conversation had started to wander. The guitarist wasn't a big fan of physical closeness but he always got cuddlier when somebody had to be consoled (or when everybody was a bit drunk). “How do you feel?”

Delia just shrugged. _Numb. Empty._ “Honestly? Like shit. But better.”

The conversation around them died soon once the others realized that she was finally talking about what had gotten her on the other side of the planet. Freddie grimaced and sat on the edge of the couch, reaching out for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Darling, Chrissie told me what happened, but I still don’t…”

“Sam broke up with me, that’s what happened,” Delia forced herself to focus on Freddie, who was gently playing with her fingers. It kinda felt like caresses. It felt nice. “We were seen snogging, she saved her own ass, did nothing to stop the director from firing me, and dumped me. It… It was really ugly.” 

Roger vehemently cursed for a whole ten seconds, which made Brian frown and didn’t quite solve anything but Delia appreciated anyway.

“Is that director going to take any other measures?” Deaky being perpetually practical didn't surprise Delia. She shrugged.

“No. Well, I don’t think so. He doesn’t want the scandal, he just wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible.”

“But why only you?” Brian protested. “What about Samantha? Hell, what about half of the company?”

“Half of the company wasn't seen making out like teenagers. And turns out that Samatha’s had a boyfriend for the past year, so I guess she passes as straight and therefore acceptable.”

Freddie got so surprised that he dropped Delia’s hand. “What?”

She didn't bother to tell them how the boyfriend was not the problem in the first place. Delia didn’t care about Samantha being with him, she cared about Samantha not being with her, but she had the feeling that it would be too messy to explain. 

“Yeah. She told the director so he wouldn’t fire her as well, and then she told me.” Delia shook her head in dismay. “Fuck, she isn’t even into men.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I just fucking said, Bri.” The annoyance was quite audible in Delia’s voice, even if poor Brian didn’t deserve it. “She’s gay, like, completely gay, not this half-assed thing I am.”

So much for eloquence. Delia felt Freddie’s inquisitive eyes on her for a few seconds and he bit his lower lip before speaking. “I’ve been told that the correct term would be ‘bisexual’,” he said, fidgeting and suddenly interested in his nails.

_Oh._

“Whatever. She’s ruining her life.”

 Roger’s angry quick to the couch made the whole thing tremble for a second. “Okay, Delly, please fucking enlighten us here,” he furiously spat out the words. “After all you’ve told us, why should you care if she ruins her life?”

“Because I love her, Rog, why the fuck do you think I care?” Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence. Brian held her a bit tighter and Delia closed her eyes, trying to fight the tears. God, how hopeless and pathetic she sounded… “And because she was right. Do you know what she also told me? That people like us don’t end up together, and she was right. There’s no fucking happy ending, I should start getting used to it.”

Delia only realized how insensitive her words had been when she saw Deaky’s slightly alarmed glance at Freddie. Freddie, who had struggled and still struggled with his sexuality, far more than Delia ever had. Who was just starting to get comfortable with himself… No, the poor thing definitely didn’t deserve to hear all that bullshit, even less after getting with David. The two of them were so lovely together, even if Delia had only seen them for a couple of seconds… The pressure suddenly building inside her chest threatened to choke her. 

“I’m sorry,” Delia babbled. Everything got blurry in a second and she clumsily wiped her tears away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that…”

“Oh, love…”

Delia heard Roger cursing once again while Freddie sat closer, pulling her out of Brian’s arms and into his. An ugly sob made her shudder but Freddie held her through it, gently running his hands through her hair.

“Delly, she…” Freddie sighed. “It’s the truth.”

“Don’t say that!” Deaky and Roger protested at the same time. Delia felt Freddie shrugging.

“Not saying it won’t make it any less true. Maybe in a few years things will have changed, but right now the best is to hide and lie. And Delia..” Freddie pulled apart to cradle her face in his hands, forcing Delia to look at him. “Dear, you’ve been doing that your whole life. Hell,” he cackled, and it made her smile. “You’ve turned lying into your profession!”

“I guess…” 

Freddie smiled a bit and brushed some red locks out of her face. Delia closed her eyes at the contact, relishing the gentle touch. 

“You’ll see, in ten years we’ll be laughing about all of this while you seduce pretty ladies away from their boring husbands or whatever. In the meantime… Fool them, darling. Fool them all.”

 

-x-

 

Delia woke up with a pounding headache (what was to be expected after having cried the night before, after all) and completely disoriented among all the bodies that surrounded her.

“Fuck, my head hurts...” she mumbled into Freddie’s neck. Somehow, Brian’s arm was still around her and Delia winced at how uncomfortable that had to be.

“Hush.”

That came from her lap, where Roger was sprawled all over Delia, Freddie and Brian. The drummer snuggled closer to her and Delia smiled, leaning over him to gently run her fingers through Deaky’s hair. The poor thing had fallen asleep sitting on the floor against Delia’s legs in a posture that would probably make his neck hurt later when they went to… 

Delia was suddenly wide awake. She gently elbowed both Freddie and Brian at the same time while moving her legs to wake Deaky. “... Aren’t you guys supposed to be in an interview right now?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, shit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -So, huh... That happened. I had been hinting at Samantha's jealousy and some of her actions kinda pointed to not being 100% on board with her relationship with Delia, so I hope the whole break-up thing didn't feel too out of the blue. 
> 
> -Poor Delia :( Her coping mechanisms are a complete disaster, thank God somebody -Chrissie- had a bit of common sense. She's a sweetie. And, well, I think this chapter would be a bit in character for the boys. Your friend is having a rough time? No problem, bloody fly her to the other side of the planet for cheering up and cuddles.
> 
> -Brian's and Deaky's cuddliness is directly proportional to how sad a friend is (or how drunk they are).
> 
> -Alright so, about Queen's first tour in Japan. They were really welcomed by like 3000 fans at the airport, as they were reaaally huge in the country. And for once, the press reflected the fan's adulation of the band, so Japan's was a really nice tour for the boys, even though at some point Brian's shoes were apparently stolen by a fan.
> 
> -Before going to Japan, after touring in the US, the band had to cancel a string of dates because of nodules on Freddie's vocal cords and they actually went to Hawaii for like ten days or so. Poor things, they deserved the rest after so many months of touring :/
> 
> -Also, fun fact, some crazy fan actually pushed her dog up to the stage when the band was in Ohio.
> 
> -David Minns!! Okay in this chapter he and Freddie had been dating for a while. Irl they got involved at some point of 1975 which I don't know about, so in an earlier chapter Freddie had told Delia about David and now she's met him after both tagged along in the tour :) Poor David was nervous about meeting another one of Freddie's friends lol.


	12. 1975 (III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you don't read the note at the end, there's a scene based on a scene of a movie called Pride (2014). You can find it on youtube typing "Pride 2014 - Dance scene (Shame, Shame, Shame" By Shirley & Company)" -also I totally recommend this movie, it has nothing to do with Queen apart from being British and gay but to me it's honestly one of the best films I've ever seen. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

_“So I can’t keep my pregnancy in secret for half a month, but you can fuck off to the other side of the planet without telling us?”_

A certain Veronica Tetzlaff-Deacon wasn’t very happy when she learnt about Delia’s break-up and consequent flight from the country by phone, and let her know loud enough that Delia had to move the phone away from her ear and everybody in the suite heard her.

“In my defence, I was mildly bullied by Chrissie to do that.”

Veronica sighed and Delia had to duck to avoid the peanut that Brian threw at her.

_“You are unbelievable.”_

“Excuse you, my girlfriend was being a good friend!”

Delia threw the peanut back at him and it landed in his hair, making Deaky giggle. Her friend’s amusement did nothing to ease her unease, however. She felt like she had been on a crash course of interpretation for days on end, that she was playing herself _and_ doing an awful job as well. At times it was almost impossible to keep a straight face and to keep smiling even though the boys were doing everything in their power to make sure that she felt better. Delia hated the feeling of being a burden, of imposing her presence in their tour, so she tried to make herself as useful as possible. That meant helping with makeup, clothing, interviews, bringing food to the band and the roadies, keeping groupies away and also making sure that Paul helped the whole band, and not only Freddie.

It was really irritating. Paul focused mostly on Freddie’s needs and it wouldn’t be the first time that he had ‘misheard’ any requests from the rest of the band. Delia had long lost count of how many times she had to remind him to reschedule stuff so Deaky had time to phone Veronica and ask about the baby, made sure that lunch included some vegetarian options for Brian or kept bandages nearby for Roger’s hands, which were still bleeding after almost every concert. But, nope. Apparently Paul only had time to find pretty kimonos for Freddie.

Delia understood him, to a degree. She knew from experience what it meant to have a crush on Freddie fucking Mercury and there was no way to deny that seeing him in those kimonos was… Definitely something else. She honestly couldn’t blame Paul for walking into a wall when they had seen Freddie going on the stage in that pink kimono. Hell, Delia herself had choked on her drink.

So, sure. Freddie was pretty, half of their roadies were having a sexuality crisis on a daily basis because of him and Delia would happily help anybody pamper his friend, by all means. That didn’t mean that Brian, Roger and Deaky didn’t bloody deserve that pampering as much as the singer. Luckily enough, there were several roadies and a ton of groupies more than willing to help Delia in that particular mission of hers.

However, there weren’t enough groupies in the whole planet to help her in her secondary mission, called ‘Getting her shit back together after being dumped by Samantha’. Delia coped by ignoring her feelings, going around helping wherever she could and as much as she could and partying after the concerts until she was tired enough to drop on any flat surface and have a dreamless sleep. It felt like playing an empty shell of her own character, one whose only worry in the world was to follow a rock band around, party and look pretty. Although, admittedly, the ‘look pretty’ part was the last one to be developed.

Delia thought about it one morning, having breakfast with the band after a concert and the subsequent partying. They had been passing around a local newspaper that none of them could read, obviously, but that came with quite a lot of photographs from the concert and the backstage. Delia saw herself in a couple of those and… Sure, she looked like herself. Hair in a pretty braid thanks to Freddie’s skilled hands, Roger’s flowy shirt over a tank top and Deaky’s bell trousers. Nothing unusual there, but Delia compared her outfit to her friends’ and felt the need to look different.

To look like something that belonged on a stage, maybe.

 

-x-

 

She got ready for that night’s concert while blasting The March of The Black Queen and Killer Queen on repeat. And, looking back, that plus her perpetual unease explained quite a lot of the events of that night.

She usually preferred to keep her hair out of her face when she knew there was going to be dancing and drinking involved, but that night Delia left her red hair hanging loose around her shoulders and down her back. She made sure that it looked nice and messy (God, she would  _kill_ for Brian’s curls) before applying black eyeshadow around her eyes in resemblance of Twiggy. It was easy to see, however, that the sharp eyeliner that followed was all Freddie’s influence.

Chrissie hadn’t exactly been thinking of a concert when she had packed the bag, so Delia had to improvise a bit with the boys’ clothing. _Thank God for glam._ Freddie’s black blouse was left half unbuttoned to show off the necklaces she stole from Brian’s bag; a pretty, shiny collection of silver beads that dangled prettily between her bare breasts. Delia asked Paul to find her a skirt and like an hour later another assistant delivered the item at the suite. Putting it on, she realized that the red skirt was  _tiny_ and that maybe Paul had tried to mess with her, but jokes on him because fantasy queen of darkness slash high class slut was exactly the look she was going after. Delia completed the outfit with fishnet stockings that a groupie got for her, a lot of shiny rings and somebody’s (Deaky’s?) platform boots. She would have taken one of Roger’s fur coats as well, but Japan in April was way too warm for that. Finally, Delia stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom and frowned.

Overall, the outfit was a bit too much. Too bold, too revealing, it screamed ‘I’m looking for trouble but also for two bottles of vodka and a shag’. Delia didn’t give it a second thought because she really didn’t want to admit the reason why she was fussing so much over her appearance. Deep down, Delia knew there was a pretty good chance that people in Britain would eventually see pics and recordings from the concert and she would never ever forgive herself if the visual evidence of her emotional wreckage tarnished Queen’s history. Delia would be there for her friends just like always, and preferably looking like sex on legs. That was what everybody expected of a girl following a rock back around anyway, and she was more than willing to play her part.

To say that the boys thought Delia looked good would be an understatement. The four of them froze as soon as Delia stepped back into their dressing room and Roger even choked on his water, while the girl that had been talking to them tripped with her own feet and dropped a folder. A nearby roadie almost walked into a table. All in all Delia smiled, satisfied with the results. “I guess that meant you like the outfit.”

“Oh, dear…” Freddie walked up to her like a cat and let out a playful growl that made her giggle. “You look _divine_ , I could totally _eat_ you.”

“Well, thank you, mister Mercury.”

He dove in a mockery of a reverence, making a show of kissing Delia’s hand.

“Can we _please_ stop being obnoxious for once?” Deaky said somewhere in the background. Delia rolled her eyes and blew him a kiss. Roger, the poor thing, was still choking on his water.

“Okay, enough,” Brian laughed, reaching out to pat Roger’s back. “Del, this is Hana Tanaka-Wilson. She is going be our interpreter during part of the tour. Hana, Delia Hughes.”

The girl that had dropped the folder as soon as Delia had set one foot on the room nervously shook hands with Delia. “H- Hi, nice to meet you.”

She was like the textbook definition of a pixie. Cute, small, with a delicate face that was still mildly flushed. Delia smiled and shook her hand for a bit longer than necessary, and the other girl didn’t stop her. The poor thing could barely meet her eyes. Oh, boy. “Likewise.”

Hana finally looked up and gave Delia a curious glance, before seemingly remembering the other four people in the room that were looking at them with diverse grades of amusement in their faces.

“... Alright, I’m…” Hana shook her head and Delia smiled, because her hair was short enough to bounce in a really cute way. “I’m going to organize your next interview. Have fun tonight, because the day after tomorrow you’ll arrive to Okayama really early and you’ll go to face the press first thing in the morning, so no partying tomorrow.”

Freddie rolled his eyes. “You worry too much, dear. So far we haven’t missed an interview, right?”

“You were almost an hour late for the second one,” their interpreter shot back. Freddie mumbled an _Ops_ that made Brian’s curls wildly bounce around as he shook his head in amusement.

Roger, whose eyes were still a bit watery after choking on his drink and struggling to breathe for several minutes, just gave Hana a thumbs up. The poor interpreter sighed as if assuming that it was as good as it was ever going to get.

Hana was already leaving the room when Delia suddenly blurted out, “We’ll see you later?”

Frozen at the door, Hana frowned for a second before shrugging. It would have come out smoother if she hadn’t blushed as well. “Maybe.”

Delia grinned and watched her leave, maybe paying too much attention to the sway of her skirt. “Nice… Ow!” she protested when a hairspray can hit her arm.

“Delia, _no_ ,” Deaky said, pointing at her as if she was a misbehaving dog. Delia raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“Delia, _yes_.”

Poor Deaky just raised his hands in the air as if to say ‘fuck it, I tried’. Freddie patted his shoulder and shook his head, all while looking at Delia and smiling like a cat.

“You are a terrible, terrible woman,” he said with fondness, chuckling when she kissed his cheek.

“Are you even wearing a bra?”

“Are those my necklaces!?”

“Nope and yes,” Delia answered both Roger and Brian. The guitarist tried to pretend that he wasn’t blushing, but Roger just laughed.

“God, we really need to get you some clothes of your own. You are wearing half of our wardrobe right now.”

“Fuck off, I dare you to guess who say who actually owns the shirt you are wearing.”

 

-x-

 

Their first concert at the Budokan was… Nothing like they had been told it was going to be, apparently. Standing on the backstage but close enough to the stage that she could see everything going on, Delia watched the avalanche of people coming out of their seats and screaming like mad.

“I thought they were going to be…?”

“Quieter? Calmer? Yeah, so did we.”

David’s soft chuckle made Delia smile. She still felt a bit stupid standing next to him; she couldn’t believe she had basically had a sleepover with Freddie’s boyfriend without recognizing him, even though David had told her his name. And Delia had known of his existence for a long year, so she didn’t even have that excuse.

Queen’s Japanese fans apparently weren’t that fluent in English, but that didn’t stop them from singing -or rather trying to sing along Brian’s White Queen. It was so overwhelming that Delia couldn’t truly understand how her friends weren’t turning into puddles on the stage. God knew she would have. After being a semi-professional and professional actress for almost ten years, she had no hint of scenic fear in her whole body. However, a concert was a completely different matter from a theatre representation, and the Budokan felt one single chorus away from collapsing on their heads. In a good sense, if that was even a thing.

The band tried to play Killer Queen, and thus provoked an uproar huge enough that Freddie actually stopped the whole thing.

“I’m pretty sure a girl just crawled over three entire seat rows,” David offhandedly said, looking at the public with mild interest while on the stage Freddie hushed their audience, not unlike an extremely glam mother hen.

“Listen! Shuush! Quiet! You're going to have to be careful... Take it easy, ok? You know what I want? We're all gonna have a good time…”

“Poor thing, he’s more distressed than any of his fans,” Delia chuckled, taking a sip from the drink she had stolen from Deaky’s unofficial stash. “Are you coming with us, later?”

“You mean if I’ll allow Freddie to pull me along? Yeah, sure.”

He said that shrugging as he watched Freddie twirl around on the stage to the rhythm of Killer Queen, fondness and adoration perfectly obvious in his eyes, and Delia grinned. Oh, she quite liked him.

“Delia!”

She turned around to Paul, who was followed by some young kid with a camera. “Hey Paul.”

“He’s taking some pics for the local press and honestly, we have too many burly, sweaty roadies hanging around right now,” the assistant explained. “Do you mind posing for a sec? Freddie will throw a fit if there’s nothing pretty on the backstage pics.”

“Oh, he would, don’t doubt it for a second.” It seemed that Delia’s outfit would serve to its purpose, after all. She made sure that her shirt covered everything that had to be covered and quickly grabbed David’s arm before he could escape. “Where do you think you are going, sir?”

“He said _pretty_.”

“Oh, hush.”

So she wanted a pic with Freddie’s boyfriend who also seemed like a really decent, nice bloke, _sue her_. Delia’s boots weren’t that high so she and David were pretty much the same height, which saved her from the neverending debate of  _should I pose so he looks taller in the pic?_ because sometimes men were painfully insecure about the silliest things and a girl being taller than them was one of those things. She just grinned and put a hand on his shoulder, posing next to him while the kid took a couple of pics.

In a fit of sympathy, Delia gestured for Paul to join them for more pics. His eyebrows raised in surprise but he complied nevertheless, and she hoped that the little gesture would ease things for everybody.

 

-x-

 

It wasn’t long before the concert ended but it was already dark enough outside, and chilly enough that David insisted in giving Delia his jacket. The boys were knackered and any other day Delia would have suggested going back to the hotel, but of course that just wasn’t going to happen after their first gig in Japan so she didn’t even bother proposing it.

It took some manoeuvring and strategizing but in the end they managed to get rid of the groupies, and the band plus Delia, David and some of their roadies wandered around the city’s main streets for a while before deciding to go into the first club that caught Freddie’s eye. Said club was, of course, huge, colourful and shiny enough that Roger couldn’t actually take his shades off, the poor thing.

Be it because they recognised the band or because they looked hot, people were looking at them as soon as they walked into the place. And although she was virtually unknown, Delia saw that people were paying attention to her as well. Maybe they recognised her from the backstage pics, although she doubted that was the reason. Probably it was that she was the only foreign woman walking with the foreign band of the moment and a bunch of roadies that looked ready to kill for a drink.

Those looks intensified, however, as soon as Delia gave David his jacket back and revealed her outfit. Those men (and several women, to her amusement) weren’t subtle at all and she quite liked it, if she was honest with herself. With the feeling of all those eyes over her came also a certain power, a loss of inhibition. Delia’s eyes looked around the place and the people for several seconds thinking that she could understand why Freddie, who was actually kinda shy and reserved and the complete opposite of his stage persona, liked to dress the way he did. It was a bit easier to be in control the situation when people are too busy underestimating you and looking at your ass.

The club was loud, annoyingly crowded and there was smoke everywhere. Delia wasn’t sure of how much of that smoke came from people smoking and how much came from a smoke machine but it was already making Brian cranky. Freddie claimed that the place was too packed and Paul, with Hana’s help, talked to somebody behind the bar and snuck them into a reserved part of the club in a total of two minutes. Never underestimate an assistant with a crush and a professional interpreter nearby. Half listening to Deaky’s protests (“Why did you make us come inside if you didn’t want a crowded place?”) Delia made no effort to stop her skirt from hitching up as the group went upstairs. She smiled when she saw a girl slapping her boyfriend on the back of the head for looking too interested.

Tired after the concert, the band collapsed on a couch pretty much the same way they had done ever since Delia had met them; like tired puppies and all over each other. Nobody was surprised anymore, not even their roadies, not even when Roger curled up on Brian’s lap like a cat or Freddie hid his face in the crook of Deaky’s neck for a moment before gesturing for David to sit with them. Delia wished somebody had brought a camera, because they were just too cute.

Instead, and taking pity at her friends, she asked everybody what they wanted and went to the bar for drinks. She realized that she had made a mistake when the barmaid, a pretty young thing that didn’t stop looking at Roger for a second, asked her something in Japanese.

“Need a hand?” a voice said behind her. Delia turned around and smiled in relief upon seeing Hana standing behind her.

“Oh, please.”

Hanna giggled, which Delia barely heard over the incredibly loud remix of Mamma Mia that was resounding at the moment but that looked cute nevertheless. She told the interpreter what everybody wanted to drink, hoping she wouldn’t forget anybody, and watched Hana translate the whole thing to the barmaid. The girl’s eyes widened for a second at the long list of drinks and she promptly started to prepare everything.

“Poor thing,” Delia giggled. “We are going to drink this whole club.”

Hana smiled. She tried to say something but suddenly a bunch of young Japanese women showed up from nowhere and got in the middle, taking Delia by surprise. “Who…?”

“Friends, from high school!” Hana exclaimed before she was abruptly dragged away by the horde of women. A bit disappointed, Delia let out a sigh as she tried to hold as many drinks as possible in one go.

“Cockblocked?”

“Ugh, shut up.” Delia stuck her tongue at Deaky, who upon making his appearance out of nowhere helped her to carry the rest of the drinks to their friends. “Do you think she’s straight?” she asked as low as possible while they distributed the drinks to everybody. Roger sipped his and frowned, obviously eavesdropping.

“Are you talking about the interpreter?” he asked, standing up from Brian’s lap so the guitarist could actually take the drink Delia was trying to give him.

“Yeah, Hana.”

Freddie let out a very unattractive snort. “Delly, dear, she basically dropped her knickers when you walked into the dressing room,” he reminded her before lowering his voice. “Trust me, there’s no way she is straight.”

Delia shrugged. That Hana had ‘dropped her knickers’ was in no way an indicator of the other girl actually being into her. Hell, Delia thought lots of people were hot and she didn’t fuck them. Her friends’ laugh brought her back to the moment, to Deaky downing his drink in practically one gulp and then reaching out for Delia’s hand. “Stop sulking, come dance with me!”

Always trust one certain Disco Deaky to brighten the mood. Delia hadn’t quite expected his excitement, although after downing a drink like that one could expect many things from her usually quiet friend. She promptly downed her drink as well and hurried to join him downstairs on the dance floor, followed by several roadies. The club seemed pretty partial to disco, what was Deaky’s natural habitat but also had Roger and Brian a bit jaded so they didn’t move from the couch. Freddie didn’t move either, although for different reasons also known as David, and Paul was nowhere to be seen. Delia looked around for a few seconds as she tried to locate him, knowing that Freddie wouldn’t be happy if they lost the assistant in Tokyo of all places.

Waterloo (was that ABBA’s night at the club?) rapidly changed into Here Comes the Sun. Delia raised her eyebrows at the difference between ABBA and the Beatles but said nothing of it, as she had always found the song really nice. Besides, Japan  _loved_ the Beatles, it wasn’t weird to play the song seven years after it had come out.

Humming, Delia elegantly spun around herself to dodge for the third time some man that was trying to dance with her (some people just didn’t want to get the hint) and suddenly found herself invading poor Deaky’s personal space and almost crashing into him. Her friend just gave her a happy smile and promptly engulfed her into his arms. Delia leant against him and smiled, closing her eyes. After downing her drink so quickly she was starting to feel quite a bit tipsy and apparently the same could be said for Deaky, because both just held onto each other and happily bopped around on the dance floor. The swinging was making her dizzier. “Deaks?” she said over the music.

“Yeah?”

 

_Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting_

 

“I’m going to miss you. But you are going to be the greatest dad.”

Somebody please take the alcohol away from Delia when she was on an emotional rollercoaster such as the one Samantha had caused. But it was the truth. Because Deaky was the youngest, he was twenty-four and was already married and a few months shy of becoming a father, and Delia didn’t know how he was keeping it together because if it had been her in his shoes, she would have been scared shitless.

But instead she was just a flatmate that was going to miss having breakfast with her friend on a daily basis.

Thankfully Deaky was just as tipsy as she was because his only answer was to kiss her on the forehead (if his eyes were shining a bit too much, well, it had to be the club’s lightning) and then the song changed to a really upbeat remix of Shame Shame Shame that allowed them to dance it all away. Deaky went nuts with it and somehow ended in the middle of a circle of people watching what included a lot of sassy hip movements and a pretty impressive slide on the floor. Almost dying of laughter, Delia made him stand up from where he was on his knees in front of her and joined him, both twirling over each other to the beat of the song. Before she could realize what was going on, Deaky had already scooped her up and her legs were around his waist as both spun around, laughing like crazy and barely avoiding hitting people on their way. It was the most fun she had had in ages, what the fuck did their friends have against disco!?

Once the song was over, they gladly accepted drinks from several people and somehow managed to make their way up the stairs and back to their friends. Delia’s feet were killing her and she promptly collapsed against the first body she found on her way. Said body promptly wrapped around her like an octopus.

“Hey, Deeel!”

“Bri?” she frowned, staring up at him. “Are you already drunk?”

His only answer was to drop his head on her shoulder, as uncomfortable as that had to be. Delia chuckled. If the ever responsible Brian was  _that_ drunk then the rest of them were going to end bloody wasted. She gently got rid of Brian and pushed him on the couch before making her way to the bar. That time she had no problems with the language barrier; she just had to point at Brian back on the couch and the waitress smiled, giving her a bottle of water and a shot of something pink. Delia frowned at whatever the waitress said then, not understanding a single word of it.

“She said the shot’s on the house,” a voice said next to her. Delia smiled, not quite meeting Hana’s gaze.

“Well, _arigato_ ,” she told the waitress. That was pretty much the only japanese Delia knew and she had probably butchered the pronunciation, but the other girl just smiled and gave her a thumbs up before Delia turned to their translator. Hana smiled a bit, calmly nursing her own drink.

“You and John put on quite the show back there,” she gestured with her head to the dance floor down the stairs.

“What can I say, ABBA was thinking of him when they wrote Dancing Queen.” Delia smiled and downed her shot, not really savouring the taste, and then looked around. “Your horde of friends left you alone?”

Hana just rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. I wasn’t even really friends with some of those girls, but they knew I’m the interpreter for Queen and asked me for backstage passes.”

“Well, if they are desperate enough I think there might be enough people from Queen’s team here for them,” Delia shrugged. “Although they might need to form a queue in front of the toilets. Those were quite a lot of girls.”

“There are several problems with that.”

“Oh, there are?”

“Yeah. The absolute lack of morals in your reasoning, for example.” Taking into account Hana’s expression, it couldn’t be bothering her that much. “Also, John is married, Brian has a girlfriend, I doubt Freddie would want to fuck _any_ girl at all…”

“Don’t ever assume you know who Freddie would or wouldn’t fuck,” Delia warned the other girl. Freddie’s private life wasn’t a thing to freely joke about. None of her friend’s lives, honestly, but his even less than the other’s.

“... some of the roadies must be married as well…”

Delia snorted. “Bold of you to assume they wouldn’t fuck your friends anyway.”

“... and three of those girls aren’t _ever_ going to sleep with a man, not even for Queen’s backstage passes.”

“Well, it might be difficult to fit four people at once into a toilet stall but I’m willing to take one for the team and give it a chance.”

Hana choked on her drink after hearing her words. Chuckling, Delia gestured the waitress for a couple of those pink shots and pushed one towards Hana before downing hers. How did it even taste like? Her tongue was numb enough that Delia couldn’t tell. She watched Hana downing her shot and licking her lips afterwards and, okay, _fuck it_.

“Alright, look, I don’t know about the laws here. Any chance I can be arrested and get the band in trouble if I go over there and kiss you?”

Hana just blinked for a second. “No.”

“Good.”

Delia was cornering and kissing her against the bar in a second. She could faintly hear Roger wolf-whistling over the music but paid little attention to it, more focused on the beautiful girl currently pressing their bodies together. Hana’s lips were surprisingly eager against Delia’s and when she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss she tasted the pink shots they had taken. Cherry. She tasted of cherry. The shorter girl squirmed and let out a breathy little moan when Delia leant further down to kiss and playfully suck on the soft skin under her jaw.

“Let’s move the party elsewhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright this time I have little to say, except that there's too much going on in 1975 and I don't know how I ever expected the whole year to fit in only two chapters. Also, there's this website called queenlive.ca that has a lot of cool information about pretty much every Queen concert ever, including anecdotes and audios, pics and more, it's pretty cool and I used it to help me write this chapter and the next one (which is almost finished! but I have finals! so don't expect it until at least the 7th).
> 
> Apart from this, well. David is a sweetheart, Hana is a completely made up character, _"So, sure. Freddie was pretty, half of their roadies were having a sexuality crisis on a daily basis because of him"_ can't be that far from reality if we are being honest, Deaky is becoming a dad and the feels are all over the place, Brian is a cuddly drunk fight me on this, and pretty girls are the bane of Delia's existence. See ya!


	13. 1975 (IV)

In all her years of partying Delia had never ever barged into a toilet and found it empty, but nobody in their right mind would let such a chance slip away. She hastily locked the door and pushed Hana against it for good measure, not giving a flying single fuck about anybody who may need the toilet. It wasn’t like she could form any other reasoning right then; with the drinks and Hana suddenly wrapping her legs around her waist Delia felt like she could barely function, let alone produce one single coherent thought.

Going braless proved a good decision, given Hana’s little gasp of surprise when her hands went under Delia’s shirt only to find bare skin. That along with Hana’s lips on her neck made Delia close her eyes in pleasure, barely holding back a moan when the other girl teasingly started to bite and suck somewhere between her jaw and ear. Apparently not one for holding back either, Hana let out a moan that resonated in the empty toilet while Delia palmed her ass, rolling her hips against the other girl, _hard_ , until Hana was a flustering, whimpering mess pressed flush against her.

Delia could almost feel the biggest hickey ever forming on her skin before she was forced to pull away, her mind swooning like crazy while Hana’s legs tightened around her and she kept kissing anywhere she could reach. It felt like everything was happening too fast and only the most basic muscle memory, only having done the same so many times before with Samantha, made Delia able to sneak a hand under Hana’s skirt. Suddenly she realized she wanted out, she wanted to get the fuck away from Hana and from that toilet but something made her keep going, some kind of a masochist pleasure that overcame her. Her own mind withdrew so far away that Delia could barely feel her own hand moving, Hana coming with a shudder and a moan that got muffled against Delia’s shoulder. 

Feeling sick, Delia waited until the other girl had recovered her breath before dropping her to the floor. It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t gentle either. Delia staggered her way to the sink and splashed her face with water before closing her eyes and grabbing the edge of the sink. “Leave.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Hana but something in her voice must had given away how fucked up she was, because Delia heard soft steps, the door unlocking, the loud music for a second and then the slam of the door. The silence that followed was almost deafening and brought her to tears.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

 

-x-

 

When Delia finally left the toilet, Hana was nowhere to be seen and Brian’s bottle of water was still at the bar, which made her feel terrible as soon as she saw it. What a wonderful friend she was, leaving her wasted friend on his own while she fucked off with some girl. Angry at everything but mostly herself, Delia grabbed the bottle and pushed people away until she was able to make her way back to the couch. Brian was still there, leaning against the back of the couch and looking at the ceiling with the empty eyes of the drunks. The poor thing flinched when Delia sat next to him.

“Sorry, love, I forgot your water,” she mumbled as she gave him the bottle. Brian was so wasted (how did he even get that drunk in such a short span of time anyway?) that it took him several minutes to open it under Delia’s amused eyes. He drank half of it in two seconds, probably making himself feel worse in the process.

“What are you doing here?” he slurred, struggling a bit to close the bottle. “Didn’t you just…? You and Hana…?”

Delia frowned and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know we don’t care.”

He was so wasted that the serious expression he tried to pull made Delia laugh. “I know you don’t, Bri. Don’t worry, we’ll talk in the morning.”

No fucking chance of Delia admitting out loud how fucked up she really was, but Brian wouldn’t probably remember the conversation anyway and her little lie soothed him. Apparently lost at words, his only reaction was to scoop her up and into his lap. Delia sighed but humoured him, dropping her head against his shoulder as she started to play with his hair. Brian’s reaction was hardly surprising, as he always got cuddlier when he was drunk or when somebody was feeling down and both things were happening at the same time.

Brian’s arms were all around her and the guitarist had turned Delia into his own teddy bear by the time that Paul made his appearance holding a drink.

“Freddie sends this.” He gave Delia the drink, a sparkly pink thing that surely was both fruity and full of alcohol. Delia gave it a sip and confirmed her suspicions while eyeing Paul, who was staring at her.

“What?” 

If she didn’t know better, Delia could swear that the assistant was a bit nervous. “Nothing, I… I saw you before, with the interpreter. I didn’t know you were…” Paul shrugged. “Well, that you are one of _us_.”

Those words coming from anybody else would have probably given Delia a heart attack, but as they were coming from a gay man with a horrible crush on one of her best friends and she was a bit drunk and the night had gone to shit already, Delia decided not to give a fuck. She just smiled and raised her drink towards Paul. “The fine art of looking straight enough that straights don’t suspect, but acting gay enough that pretty girls will take you home,” she giggled. “I guess I’m looking a bit straight these days.”

“Well, you definitely don’t look like a lesbian.”

“Maybe because she isn’t a lesbian,” Brian suddenly barged in the conversation. He didn’t sound happy at all and Delia playfully bopped his nose.

“Chill, Bri. Nothing wrong in being mistaken for a lesbian.”

Paul was already being pulled away by some of their roadies when Delia looked back up, but he gave her a thumbs up that unexpectedly warmed her inside. She didn’t allow herself to hope for anything else, though. Just because they had _that_ in common it didn’t mean that Paul would suddenly turn into a sweetheart, but Delia couldn’t deny that the novelty of carelessly talking about being gay with another gay person that wasn’t Freddie felt nice.

Their little night out was coming to an end, Delia could feel it. The music was slightly worse, people were starting to get too drunk and nobody was really having a good time anymore, they just kept going and would surely keep going until collapsing. Delia took the chance as soon as she saw Roger again, waving her hand until he saw her and walked to the couch.

“Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” he joked, absently gesturing at them. He was drunk and probably a bit high, which wasn’t any news and didn’t excuse thinking that a grown-ass man like Brian wrapped around another human being in the middle of a club was ‘a sight for sore eyes’. Delia just rolled her eyes.

“Rog, can we please leave?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Delia?” he sat on the couch and winced when Brian mumbled something and extended his octopus embrace to include him as well. “Besides, I thought you would leave with Hana.”

Delia lowered her eyes. “She reminded me of her.”

She reminded her of Samantha. Roger gave her a weird look and didn’t answer, although he looked a bit sobered up when he nodded and struggled for three minutes to get rid of Brian.

For once Brian and Deaky were the wasted ones and Roger the one in charge. That only meant that he was slightly less wasted than the other two, but nevertheless he had to go around with Paul to find all of their roadies (they just couldn’t leave a drunk british roadie lost in the middle of fucking Tokyo) and into the dance floor to retrieve Deaky. Freddie and David reappeared just as everybody was getting ready to leave the place; judging by the unusual queue in front of the men’s toilet, Delia was quite confident in her assumption of what they had been up to.

Nobody had the slightest hope to get a dozen drunk roadies across Tokyo and there was already some light outside, so Roger just said ‘Fuck it’ and got them a couple of taxis. Delia watched Hana going into one of the roadies’ taxis and said nothing about it, carefully looking away.

“Why is it morning already?” Deaky whined as he got into their taxi, dropping his head against Freddie. The singer just laughed as he gently stroked his hair.

“Land of the Rising Sun, love.”

The roadies were nowhere to be seen once they finally made it back to the hotel which appeased Delia, because it meant that Hana was nowhere to be seen either but also that Queen didn’t have a dozen of drunk people disturbing the lobby. She wanted to go the bed more than anything else, the ride in the lift felt like forever and she was literally on the verge of tears during the whole three minutes that took them to search for the key in everybody’s pockets. However, Delia made everybody go inside first before she looked at Freddie with a raised eyebrow. She wasn’t sure if they were even trying to be subtle or not, but the fact was that David was perfectly visible standing on the corner of the hallway in front of his own room and waiting for Freddie.

“Oh, you can go in and close behind you, darling, I’m…” Freddie chuckled and blushed a bit. It was cute. “I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

“Yeah, I had assumed so,” Delia deadpanned. “Do you want a condom? I can go inside and grab a couple, because if you had one in those trousers I can assure you it’s already fucked up.

She was quite sure she hadn’t seen tightest trousers in her whole life. Freddie blushed harder and shook his head. “No, love, but thanks for asking.”

“Anytime.”

Tired to her bones, Delia blew him a kiss and gave David a thumbs up before going into their suite and closing the door behind her. Her friends hadn’t gone to bed yet and were unsurprisingly all sprawled on the couch like a bunch of tired kittens.

“What do they even need a condom for? It’s not like somebody’s getting pregnant,” Deaky slurred from somewhere under Roger, having obviously heard the whole thing. Delia sighed.

“I’m _so_ not explaining gay sex right now.”

"How do you even know…?"

"Threesome."

One of her friends made a choked noise but Delia ignored him, and took a bottle of water from the small fridge under the sink. For somebody who had been pestering Brian about drinking water for almost an hour, she was nearly dehydrated.

“I… Don’t you feel conflicted?” Brian asked while Delia drank the whole bottle. She tossed it into the bin and winced when a beam of sunlight hit her through the open blinds. Land of the rising Sun, sure.

“About what?”

“Freddie. And David. And Mary.”

“He thinks you’ll tell her,” Deaky clarified before Delia even had time to register the question. Brian nudged their friend hard enough that Roger almost fell from the couch.

“Deaky!”

“What?” the bassist protested. “You were taking too long.”

“It’s just a question! We won’t tell her, but Del…”

“Del is a girl and will immediately run off to the nearest phone to tell Mary because she’s another girl?” Delia asked, outraged. “Fuck off, Bri, you talk like you don’t know me.”

“Well, fuck me for caring about him then!” Brian exclaimed, far too loud for how early it was.

Roger leant forward enough to slap the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up, it’s too early, and you’ll wake someone, and I can’t believe I said that.”

Watching Brian friend struggle to get up from the couch, Delia found herself not caring at all about the noise. The only person in the whole hotel she cared about, apart from those three wankers in front of her, wasn’t going to be woken up as he was probably too busy fucking his brains out. No, she quite cared about something else...

“If you told Mary, it would screw up his life...”

She cared about something else, and Brian’s words weren't making things any better. 

“Do you really think that I’m not aware of that? Do you fucking think I’d do that to him?” Delia asked in disbelief. Brian’s silence nearly blew her away. “You do…”

Brian’s expression told her two things, that he was still wasted and that he had realized how he was fucking things up. “Del, listen…”

“Don’t fucking ‘Del’ me, and shut the fuck up! Get that stick out of your ass, Bri, you don’t have the monopoly of caring about Freddie!” Anger made Delia speak quite louder than she intended to and somebody hit the wall from the suite next to theirs, but nobody paid attention to it. “Let’s put it plainly, I love Freddie far more than I’ll ever love Mary. I’m completely fucking biased, so don’t worry your pretty head.”

“Fair enough,” Deaky mumbled, promptly ignoring every killer glance in his direction. Delia forced herself to breathe in slowly before speaking again.

“Look at me. Bri, look me in the eye and tell me. Tell me that you don’t see that Freddie needs something else, something that Mary won’t ever be able to give him. Do you honestly think I’d take that away from him?” she asked, and she was no longer angry but sad. Outing Freddie to Mary would be fucking up her dearest friend’s life but at the same time would also feel like doing it to herself. Delia would rather die. How couldn’t Brian see that? “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Bri?”

“Del…”

He looked hurt. Hurt, and a bit lost and totally wasted, and he had no right to feel the two first things. Delia just sighed. How the fuck had the night taken such a turn for the worse in less than five minutes?

“Fuck off. Goodnight. Good morning. Whatever, who fucking cares.”

Delia underlined her words by slamming the door of the room, which earned her yet another hit on the wall from the other suite that she promptly ignored. Pissed off, she took off everything but her underwear and squirmed her way under the sheets of one of the two beds. Whose room was that one anyway? They had all been sleeping all over each other and switching rooms more often than not, not unlike at their flat. Their flat, which would soon lack an occupant… Shit. Alright, sleep. She definitely needed the sleep. Delia was in the middle of trying to calm herself down by breathing in slowly when she saw it, the Red Special’s case carefully leaning against the wall. Brian. It was the room Brian was sharing with Freddie. Well, Freddie wasn’t going to use it that night, and Brian could go fuck himself in her rather impartial opinion.

(Alright, she might have gotten up to make sure that the case and the guitar were secure and wouldn’t spontaneously fall flat on the floor in the middle of the night, who the hell had thought that leaving it leaning against the wall was a good idea? She hoped Brian wouldn’t find the roadie in charge of the Special.)

Finally, after the long night, Delia was all curled up on the bed and like three seconds away from falling asleep -when somebody repeatedly knocked on the door.

“Alright, enough, what the fuck?” she grumbled. “It’s open.”

The door opened and Delia raised an eyebrow when she saw Roger standing there, only wearing his underwear and a too-long t-shirt that probably belonged to Brian. Knowingly, Delia sighed and lied back down. “Bri sent you?”

“Bri sent me,” Roger confirmed. “He’s sorry for being a wanker -his words, not mine- but he’s also wasted out of his mind and lying on the floor to make the room stop spinning around him, so here I am.”

“Fucking wanker.” She turned her back to the door and moved to make room for Roger while he closed the door behind him.

“I thought Bri himself had established that,” he happily chirped, and then there was the soft sound of his bare feet on the floor and the mattress shaking as he fought his way under the sheets. Delia rolled her eyes but turned around again and leant on her elbow to watch him get comfortable, rolling around and putting his hands under his head before yawning. Cute.

“I honestly cannot believe he thought…” Whatever she was going to say got lost in her mind as she reached out and ran her fingers through Roger’s hair. He closed his eyes and smiled, leaning into the touch.

“Everybody’s some level of drunk right now and you know him, Delly.” He opened his eyes again. Tired eyes, with pupils still a bit too wide after whatever he had taken at the club, and impossibly blue. Delia’s eyes were blue as well but hers weren’t nearly as pretty as Roger’s. “He worries too much. Worrying makes you think stupid things.”

“Yeah, but has he asked you guys if you would tell Mary?” Roger’s silence confirmed it and made something drop deep in her guts. “He hasn’t.”

“Delly…”

“Fuck.” Delia cursed under her breath and lied flat on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. She loved Brian but sometimes she would gladly smack him against the nearest door. “Fucking smartass. You know, if anything _I_ should be the one worried that _you_ guys are going to out him.”

“Why? Let’s be honest, not the first time that men cover their mates when they cheat on their girlfriends.”

“Yeah, but Freddie isn’t cheating on Mary with a woman, is he?” Delia rolled on her back as she nearly spat out the words. If looks could kill, the ceiling would have already fallen on them. “And twenty-something-year-old guys in rock bands don’t exactly have the best record in terms of being open-minded.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She felt Roger shrugging next to her. “We never cared, and will never care, and Brian was just drunk and trying to prove once again that he overthinks things. Don’t get mad at him, otherwise he’ll mope around for days.”

“He deserves a bit of moping.”

“And Freddie will notice and ask and worry.”

“Fuck.”

If everything else failed, Delia and Roger still had ‘caring a bit too much about Freddie’ in common. But how the fuck was she supposed to meet Freddie and not love him since the very first day? She didn’t exactly know how Roger felt about the whole thing, but she _did_ know that at some point he had fallen flat on his arse after seeing Freddie laughing and yeah, that was one very accurate reaction to the whole existence of Freddie Fucking Mercury.

Delia blinked, surprised, when calloused fingers tilted her face towards Roger’s. He looked far too awake for her liking, and too curious as well.

“What are you thinking?”

She shrugged. No big deal. “I love him.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I think my sense of love is completely fucked up.” Delia sighed when the only answer she got was a raised eyebrow. “You see, Freddie… Well, forget that, he prefers men. You, for example. You are my friend and we slept together and stayed friends. And to me, those two kinds of love don’t feel any different.”

“Maybe you are in love with me,” Roger teased, smiling when Delia hit him on the chest.

“You know I’m not. Maybe.” Delia bit her lower lip and curled up next to her friend, sighing when Roger reached out to rub her hip in soothing circles. “I don’t fucking know, if I’m in love with you then I’m in love with everybody else because it doesn’t feel any different. It brings me back to my main point, I’m fucked up.”

“Don’t say that,” he protested, dropping a soft kiss on her shoulder. How had they even gotten so entangled in each other?

Delia shrugged. “Not saying it doesn’t change the truth.”

“You still love her, right?”

People always liked to underestimate Roger. Sure, the pretty drummer, all day long either partying or chasing after anything on two legs. They hadn’t seen the love, the care, the worrying in those eyes, and Delia pitied them for such a loss.

“Yeah,” she confessed. It only made sense.  After two years one just doesn’t stop being in love. “It’s messing with me.”

“I guessed so. Otherwise, you’d be spending the night at Hana’s…”

Hana. Oh, no, Delia wasn’t touching that topic with a ten-foot stick. She tried to pull away (once again, how had they gotten so entangled in each other? No wonder they were so attached to Freddie, they were like bloody _cats_ ) only to accidentally bump her nose into his. Roger just let out a soft _Ouch_ and cuddled closer to her.

“Rog?”

Apparently unaware of their current position (or not giving a shit, more likely), Roger made a half-hearted attempt to move away just barely enough to look her in the eye. “Yeah?”

He was close. Too close, and not only his lips, but his whole body, and it was too much. Delia could feel their legs touching and his hand still on her hip, hers on his chest, his breath tickling her neck. Nothing had to happen. She could close her eyes. Close her eyes and cuddle up to him and Roger would happily tuck his face into the crook of her neck and they would just sleep and nothing would happen.

Delia leant in and kissed him anyway. If the way his mouth welcomed her meant anything, it hadn’t been at all unexpected. It was just how it was; they were both so fucking handsy and needy that somewhere along the line kissing had just become a more steamy version of cuddling. They were perfectly at ease, in their element, making out like horny teenagers until they ran out of breath. And then Roger was giggling, and she was giggling like crazy with every single little bite and kiss dropped on her skin and it was as easy as breathing.

Except that they were a mess, and people who underestimated them maybe had a point because they could not take things to the next level. It never was nearly enough, not even with Roger kissing and biting and sucking that spot under her jaw that made her go crazy, not even pulling at his hair until he let out a breathy little moan against her skin. Oh, _that_ was new. Delia promised herself to remember it later, more focused on her current task of pulling at the t-shirt and trying to get rid of it. Roger got the hint and a second later Brian’s t-shirt was being carelessly hurled to the other side of the room, and Delia just couldn’t keep her hands to herself -which was only fair, as Roger’s were under her bra and palming her ass respectively. At some point he had made his way in between her legs and Delia was getting _very_ aware of that, both moaning each time they rocked against each other. Delia’s bra was soon out of the picture, a particularly hard thrust made her legs spread wider and then Roger’s hand started moving between their bodies, moving under her underwear...

“Fuck!”

… And then he pulled away as if hit by a lightning

“Roog!” Delia whined in frustration, pushing herself up on her elbows and staring at him between her legs. “What’s wrong? You wanna stop?”

To be fair, the poor thing looked quite conflicted. For a moment Delia wondered if he was still too high to be making his own decisions but gave him a few seconds to answer when she saw he was looking for the right words. In the end, Roger just gave her a tired smile.

“I… I can’t be her, Delly. I won’t be her.”

Oh, no, that fucking wasn’t it. Delia closed her legs around his waist and flipped them over, nearly falling off the bed in the process

“I don’t want you to be her, I want you to be you.”

“Are you su…”

Delia shut him up by grinding down her hips, hard. The moan he barely held back made her smile before he sat up and pulled her into a kiss. Roger wasn’t Samantha and he wasn’t Hana either, he was _Roger_ , and Delia loved him for it. 

 

-x-

 

The guitar woke her up. 

Delia held back a groan of pain; her head was killing her and her thighs hurt and her whole body was screaming in pain. The good pain, mind you, but still pain nevertheless. She opened one eye and closed it immediately, blinded by the light, but it was enough to see Roger’s soft sleeping face inches away from her own face. Carefully, she manoeuvred to a more comfortable position and rested her head against his chest while listening to the music. 

A quick look to the wall confirmed it; the Red Special was gone. Delia should probably feel guilty about fucking her friend on her other friend's bed, she should be ashamed -because Brian had to had seen them sleeping when he went into the room to take the guitar. But, to be honest, she didn't feel that guilty  _or_ ashamed.

Delia sighed, remembering her own words the night before. There was definitely something wrong with her. She tried not to think too much about it and forced herself to focus on the music instead. She couldn't recognize the melody. She had never heard it before, but it sounded oriental so she guessed her friend had just recently picked it up. Soothed by Brian's playing, Delia yawned and promptly fell back asleep.

 

-x-

 

During the year she had been exclusive with Samantha, Delia had come to the conclusion that her girlfriend would always resent Roger to some degree for having been with her. It was probably influenced by Delia being attracted to men as well as women; Samantha wouldn’t be the first not the last lesbian to have an issue with that and there was nothing Delia could do to change some opinions. 

And it was stupid and childish, but being aware of Samantha’s dislike of Roger made being with him feel even better. Like a giant _fuck you_ to her ex. As days and concerts and interviews went on it was easy to fall back in their dynamic of the previous tour. It was easy to be with Roger, full stop. Both were sure they were friends first and everything else second, both knew that their little thing was just for fun and nothing serious would come from it. They were too alike for that.

“I still can’t believe you were so worried of screwing up our friendship,” Delia said one night in a pub's toilet stall, remembering that morning at their flat that felt a lifetime away. Roger just shrugged, playfully kissing and biting her neck as he gently pushed Delia against the wall.

“People sometimes confuse things, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

And then his hand was between her legs, and any coherent thought left Delia’s head for a while.

As Brian would have said, they were just in the same wavelength, and that was something Delia had never quite paid attention to before but she realized soon that it just made things so much better. Both had little to no chill and liked to mess with each other: Roger’s face in Kobe when she suddenly cornered him in a closet and went down on him right before the gig was hilarious; the not so unexpected return of the favour the following night got Delia on the table of the dressing room, gasping and with her fingers desperately tangled in soft blond locks while Roger put his tongue to good use between her legs.

Let’s just say that Freddie learnt to knock before going into any room. Eventually.

They had momentarily feared that their… Thing? Affair? Whatever. They had feared that being ‘back’ ‘together’ could put a strain on the band, but after one too many of Deaky’s sarcastic remarks (“Oh, you were organising the interview? I could have sworn you were fucking Roger right into the couch, sorry, my bad.”) it became obvious that they couldn’t care less. They all had already known for a long while, and while Brian reacted with the tired stoicism of a father unable to control his naughty kids, Freddie and Deaky were more amused than anything else. Maybe it would have been different if Delia had been part of the band, if her fling with Roger could maybe jeopardize them, but as things were, it was just one more of the band’s mildly unhealthy behaviours. Brian forgot to eat more often than not and got too into his mind, Deaky drank a bit too much at times, Freddie always got higher than the rest, Roger and Delia fucked each other senseless whenever the opportunity arose. 

They hadn’t quite talked about it, but the last concert came and there was only one day left before going back to England, and things between Delia and Roger showed no signs of slowing down. Not that she had any particular complaints, she absently thought while watching her friend aggressively hitting the drums during Hangman. Next to her, David frowned as soon as Freddie started to sing.

“I had never heard that song,” he commented. Delia shrugged.

“As far as I know, they haven’t played Hangman in a gig for… What, the last two years? I think there isn’t a studio version either.”

David just nodded, his eyes never leaving Freddie. The band made a short break after Bring Back That Leroy Brown and Delia and some roadies were ready to help them change their clothes in barely thirty seconds.

“This feels like a Formula 1 pit stop,” Roger grumbled as Delia forcibly got his arm through the sleeve. She rolled her eyes and sent him back to the stage with a slap on the arse, just in time to start playing Son And Daughter. Brian’s solo was daringly longer than usual and it included a melody that felt familiar to Delia; she realized after a couple of seconds that it was the same one he had been playing a week ago, the morning after the first gig at the Budokan. The morning after they had… What? Could it be considered an argument when Brian had been thoroughly wasted and pretty much unable to shut up and stop talking shit? Delia hadn’t been alone with him since that day and therefore they hadn’t talked about it, and things were likely to stay the same. 

Watching his fingers fly and rip the melody out of the Red Special, Delia wondered if maybe things weren’t better that way. It wasn’t like they weren’t talking to each other, things were just a bit… Tense, that’s it.

David’s snort in response to whatever one of the roadies had just told him caught Delia’s attention, and she raised an eyebrow. David, apparently amused, just shook his head.

“The roadies are messing around with some groupies -you know, the usual. Some of them speak a bit of English and told him that Brian is wearing a type of kimono called ‘tomosode’. Which apparently is meant for married women.”

Delia looked at said kimono -black, except for some elaborate white floral embroideries at the bottom- and shook her head as well. The kimonos had been a nice touch but, of course, with the cultural differences they had been bound to fuck it up at some point. The kimono looked nice on Brian anyway and God knew they had struggled to find one that fit his height so in Delia’s opinion it was just a funny detail…

“He also told me that women’s kimonos are more elaborated, so in fact I’d say they are all wearing women’s kimonos. Because, I mean, look at those designs.”

Giggling, Delia realized he was true. All four of her friends’ kimonos had some very beautiful and impressive designs on them… So they were all dressing like women and Brian was dressing like a married woman specifically. She shook her head in amusement. Only Queen…

The public’s response once the concert ended was overwhelming. A lot of young girls were crying, a man actually passed out somewhere in the second row of seats and Freddie’s eyes were a bit too shiny when he went backstage and engulfed Delia in a rib-crushing hug, collapsing against her so hard that he knocked the air out of her lungs for a second. Delia yelped in surprise when her feet actually left the floor and had to wrap both arms and legs around Freddie, fearing that he would lose his balance and they would end on the floor. 

Somebody (Roger, probably) chuckled, and Delia blindly flipped him off, smiling when Freddie hid his face against her neck with a happy sigh. She just hugged him back, running her hands through his hair and trying to make him come back down from the high of the concert. Freddie’s chest moved against hers as if he had just run a marathon, the kimono was disgustingly sweaty and the previously straightened hair now hung around his face in big, messy curls. He was the most precious wreck ever and if Delia loved him any more then her heart would just fucking burst.

“That was epic, you know?” she told him once Freddie decided to move away from her neck and face the world again. He didn’t put her back on the floor just yet, and instead chuckled and secured his grasp under her legs while she used her fingers to fix his makeup to the best of her abilities.

“Oh, dear, just wait. _This night_ is going to be epic.” 

Freddie gave her a kiss that was probably intended for the cheek but that landed half on her mouth, and Delia giggled as he carefully put her back on the floor. Delia could see that he was looking for David but suddenly he and the rest of the band got surrounded by a bunch of groupies that had somehow appeared out of thin air. They didn’t look like the obsessive kind, though. As she sat on top of an amp, Delia smiled when she saw the girls giving her friends little gifts and toys. One of those was a huge teddy koi fish and Deaky visibly teared up a bit when the girl told him in pretty good English it was for his baby.

Delia had been so focused on her friends that she didn’t see her coming until the other woman was literally in front of her.

“Hi.”

It was Hana. Her smile felt a bit bitter to Delia, but she looked just like every other day during the tour. They had pretty much ignored each other during those weeks. During every Queen meeting Delia had attended, every rushed walk through the cities, every moment at the backstage. The band had offered to hire another interpreter if Delia felt that things were too awkward, but she had quickly declined the offer. It was hardly Hana’s fault that Delia was fucked up, she didn’t deserve to lose her job.

“Hi,” she managed to blurt out after a few seconds. She suddenly felt the stupid urge to apologize, to say something, _anything_. Hana beat her by gently leaving a long, silky sheath on top of her knees.

“I just wanted to give you something before you left,” she explained as Delia opened the sheath. Inside there was a silver, stick-like object that shone brightly under the harsh lights of the backstage. “It’s called tachibana, a type of kanzashi. Traditional hair ornaments.”

Delia carefully touched one of the little red stones that decorated the tachibana. She actually teared up a bit, even though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe the gift itself, maybe Hana’s small but sincere smile. “It’s beautiful…” she mumbled.

“Can I…?” Hana asked, gesturing at her hair.

“Sure.”

Delia spun around herself without thinking it twice. The feeling of Hana’s fingers carefully threading through her hair almost brought her to tears again. They hadn’t been anything but a sloopy hookup in some club’s toilets, but as the other girl put her hair up in some kind of bun held by the tachibana, Delia realized that she felt incredibly guilty nevertheless. She had never meant to play around with people, not like that.

“Done.” Hana’s voice brought Delia back to reality and she spun around again so she could face the other girl. The expression on Hana’s face was a complete mystery to Delia. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

Hana bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes for a second before speaking again. “I… I don’t know what happened to you. But it’s obvious that something happened, and I just hope it gets better.”

And then, taking Delia by surprise, Hana cradled her face in her hands and kissed her in front of the whole backstage crew. Delia was immediately disoriented by it. Maybe it was the sweetness of those lips, maybe it was that Delia was sitting down and Hana wasn't, so for once she was shorter than the person she was kissing. Maybe it was the thumb gently caressing her cheek, or the whispers around them. Delia only realized she had started to cry after Hana pulled away and wiped the tears off with her thumbs.

“Give me a call if you are ever back in Japan, alright? Take care of yourself.”

And then she kissed Delia’s cheek, and then she turned around and left -and fuck if Delia didn’t feel complete and utterly empty as she watched the other girl walk away.

She looked around. Some people were still whispering and not-so-discreetly looking at Delia but her friends seemed to be completely unaware of what had happened. Well, except Brian. His height made him tower above the band and the groupies, and apparently had allowed him to see the whole thing because he was looking at Delia with a very weird and worried expression on his face. But at least the others hadn’t seen anything. God knew they had already seen Delia at her worst one too many times. 

Mentally thanking their groupies for the distraction, Delia hugged her knees as she fought to hold back a sob. Where had _that_ come from? It wasn’t like she and Hana had had a passionate love affair, they hadn’t been… Anything. Delia thought it was a bit hilarious that after being royally fucked over by Samantha she still had enough tears to cry for a girl that hadn’t even meant that much...

Somebody dropping on the other side of the amp suddenly dragged Delia out of her mind and back into the real world.

“What?” she snapped at Paul. He just shrugged, joint in hand and looking at her with something remotely akin to sympathy in his eyes.

“Nothing, honey. You look stressed. Take this,” he said, offering Delia the joint. “I think that you need it more than I do.”

Delia had realized weeks ago that he was being nicer to her ever since the club, since he learnt that she wasn't straight either. His dislike of Roger, Brian and Deaky, childish as it was, hadn’t gone away. And she was weirdly okay with that. As long as he didn’t neglect his job, Delia was pretty sure that she and Freddie would be able to keep him in track. 

Paul was a bitch, sure, but a hell of an assistant as well. More often than not he would forget little requests from the boys (never from Freddie, though, and never from Delia, for the last few weeks) but he also got them pretty much anything and everything they needed as a band. Delia wouldn’t be surprised if he got promoted to manager in the future, honestly, because the guy was good at his job and had contacts fucking _everywhere_. She had long lost count of how many times he had saved their asses during those weeks in Japan.

If only he could organise her life as easily as he organised Freddie’s, she wistfully though as she took the already lit joint from his fingers.

“Thanks,” she mumbled before puffing on it. Only for a second, because that stuff was _so_ much stronger than what she was used to that her eyes were immediately blown open. “Jesus Christ...”

Paul gave her a friendly smile, patting her back. “You’re welcome.”

 

-x-

 

Whatever Paull had given her, it was obviously nothing like the cheap weed they had been able to afford years before. 

Five hours after the concert Delia was still high as a kite at some karaoke, pinning Roger against a wall in a dark corner while Freddie and Deaky destroyed some Japanese song on the stage. She wasn’t quite sure of where Brian had wandered off and moved away for a second to look for him. Roger hummed in protest and pulled softly at her hair, tilting her head up for another kiss. She could feel his grin against her lips, his hands grabbing her ass and grinding their hips together even harder. Delia moaned against his mouth and then laughed; they were being obscene and totally inappropriate, and she loved every second of it.

She was trying to subtly unzip his pants when Deaky suddenly appeared next to them, pushing Delia out of Roger’s arms and up the small stage where Freddie was waiting for her. He was high as well -probably the five of them were high to some degree, to be honest, even Brian- and welcomed Delia with a hug and a messy peck on the lips that made her laugh. God, what a sight they had to be. She was wearing Brian’s kimono which she had… Borrowed, and a pair of high-heeled boots, and as Roger had made sure earlier of messing with her hair and leaving several hickeys all over her neck and chest… Delia probably looked like she had just been shagged, to put it plainly. Freddie, on the other hand, had gone full glam on them that night. He was wearing a black outfit that reminded Delia of the Queen II tour and she would lie if she said that the thought of dragging him to the nearest toilet hadn’t crossed her mind.

They destroyed a few more songs and ended up carelessly twirling around a pole, something Delia turned out to be decent at while poor Freddie always slipped to the floor. She soon joined him and they talked for a while about something she couldn’t remember as soon as their conversation was over. The only thing she was sure of was that she loved him so so so much it almost physically hurt.

They decided (after Deaky got drunk enough to almost fall down from a table) that maybe it was a good time to get back to the hotel. It was still dark outside but they didn’t try to find a taxi, deciding to walk instead. Well, more like chasing a tipsy Freddie down the streets rather than walking, but still. Eventually the singer made his way into a park so of course Delia would follow him without thinking it twice. Everything was fine and dandy and she had almost reached him, when something gets under the heel of her boot and suddenly she’s rolling down a small hill while her friends laugh and scream her name.

It all ended so abruptly that Delia barely had time to register it, once she was sprawled on the grass and struggling to spit out a random daisy that had found its way into her mouth. The stars above her shone bright and beautiful but she was way too high to enjoy them, and the world was spinning around her and...

“Del?” a voice asked. Bri. “Are you alright?”

“Sure,” she slurred. “Fuck, everything’s spinning, c’ mere.”

Suddenly Brian’s face irrupted her range of vision, upside down, which made Delia feel even dizzier. Upon feeling him sitting down next to her she managed to half-drag herself onto his lap, blindly holding on whatever she could reach. After a few seconds of fumbling, two strong hands took hers and gently anchored Delia to the ground. She had the feeling that she would float away if nobody grabbed her. 

Delia took in a few breaths before forcing her eyes to focus again. She couldn’t see the others from where she was lying on the ground, she could only see Brian’s wild mane of curls upside down and the sky and the stars over him, and that little smile of his, tinted with the usual uncertainty and fondness.

“What?” he asked after a few seconds of staring. Delia shrugged.

“One of you fangs. It, like… Pokes out. A bit. It’s cute.”

It wasn’t the brightest thing her brain had ever come up with but, whatever, she was high and he was cute. Cuter, even, when he suddenly blushed a bit, and Delia muffled her laugh against his forearm.

“Uh, thanks?” he stuttered. Delia's hair had come loose from the tachibana at some point and she could feel Brian's fingers tangled in it. “Come on, let’s…”

“No! I’m comfy here,” she pouted, making him smile. “Don’t make me move.”

Brian made a sound of agreement as he gently pulled on Delia’s clothing, which was actually his kimono from the concert. “I see you liked it,” he teased.

“Mmh? Oh, it’s lovely. I inform you that I plan to keep it.”

“That’s hardly news, you always steal our clothes.”

“Excuse you? We all steal each other’s clothes,” Delia reminded him. “Hell, we even steal each other’s beds. I’m sorry about last week, by the way. I wasn’t exactly planning on fucking Rog on your bed.”

“...”

It didn’t quite hit her for a few seconds, but when it did she wished the ground would swallow her whole. “Oh my God.” Delia emitted a mortified sound and hid her face against Brian’s leg. “I can’t fucking believe I said that.”

“I can, trust me,” he deadpanned. His hands never left Delia’s hair, though, so he couldn’t be that mad. Right? “But I wanted to talk about last week as well, I… I’m really sorry I was such an arsehole.”

Delia frowned and tried to sit up. Everything felt kind of slow and squishy and she struggled to stay upright, at least until Brian put an arm around her shoulders and made her lean against him. In spite of their current conversation, she couldn’t help but sigh in satisfaction and close her eyes.

“I still can’t believe you thought I’d out Freddie,” Delia mumbled. She felt a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t.”

“I’d rather die than hurt him.”

“I just…” Brian’s voice died for a couple of seconds, during which Delia could hear Roger and Freddie messing around and Deaky chastising them in the background. “I feel this need to… To protect him. We all do. You do as well. His life won’t be easy… I overreacted, and I’m sorry.”

Delia sighed and tucked her face against his neck, feeling the shiver that ran through Brian’s body. Sometimes, she thought, he was too nice for his own good.

“Bri?” she heard the voice from very far away, even though their friends were in front of them. “Is she okay?”

“Stoned out of her mind, but yeah.”

Somebody dropped to the grass in front of Delia, making her open her eyes and smile.

“Freddie!” she exclaimed. Kneeling in front of her, Freddie comically spread his arms.

“Delly!”

“You, Sir, are my mainest bitch,” Delia proclaimed. She managed to stay upright on her own and basically launched herself at Freddie, hugging him as hard as she could. “I love you so so so much.”

“Aw, I love you too, Delly.”

“I fucking love your cheekbones… You are so pretty and so nice, and have these cheekbones!” Delia remarked her words with several kisses on his cheeks and Freddie laughed, delighted.

“Oh my God, I swear I have to get you this high in the future...”

“No, you won’t,” Brian interrupted him, taking Delia’s hands and trying to pull her up. “Come on, let’s get you back on your feet…”

“Bri! No, stop, wait a second? Wait a second!”

“What…?”

Delia didn’t pay attention to him, looking around them… Sure thing, the grass was sprinkled here and there with some daisies, one of which she had managed to almost swallow down in her fall. Roger and Deaky finally approached them as Delia grabbed a couple of flowers.

“What are you doing?” Deaky asked. Delia didn’t answer, unceremoniously putting the flowers in Brian’s curls instead.

“How do I look?” he joked.

“Pretty,” Delia truthfully said. “The prettiest…”

“Oi, I thought I was the prettiest!” Roger interrupted her.

“That would be me, darling,” Freddie proclaimed, apparently unaware of the tired look Deaky was giving them.

“You are all pretty, now, can we get moving?” he asked, pretty much ignoring Roger as he mockingly pecked his cheek.

“You are pretty as well, DeakyyyBRI!” Delia screeched when Brian, who had apparently run out of patience, stood in front of her and forcibly gave her a piggyback ride. “BRIAN! Bri, put me down!”. For all she struggled, however, the only thing Delia could do as he started to walk was to hang on for dear life.

“Off to sleep you go, all of you!” Brian exclaimed. Somewhere behind them, Freddie laughed and cheered.

 

-x-

 

_“... we really enjoyed that first concert at the Budokan and…” Roger giggled when Freddie started to mess with him in front of the camera. “And we hope to see you very soon, hope you enjoy the film… Wait, Delia, come here!”_

_“No. Rog, no, stop it…!” Delia visibly struggled to get free, although in the end Roger managed to drag her in front of the camera. He left after blowing her a kiss. “I hate you... Hi there, this is Delia.”_

_“Also known as my mainest bitch,” Freddie happily added, off-camera. Delia gave him a bright smile._

_“Fuck off, Freddie.”_

_“Anyway, is there’s anything you wanna say to our fans?” Roger’s hand appeared in front of her, holding a little toy like a microphone. Delia sighed and looked away, smiling._

_“Man, I  don’t even know what to say. Thanks for giving this four dumbasses a job, I guess… Also, girls, please stop throwing your bras to the stage. Deaky, stop that!” she giggled, batting his hands away after he tried to tickle her for the third time. “But seriously, enough with the bras. The other night Freddie almost slipped on one and trust me, Roger’s ego doesn’t need the boost.”_

_“Oi, you are just jealous they aren’t throwing bras at you!”_

_“Shut up, you muppet!” Delia shouted at Roger and walked off-camera. “Now you’ll have to delete that part...”_


End file.
